


From Hanamura With Love

by Sovereign_Tea



Series: The Most Beautiful Weapon [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugging, Established Relationship, Fellatio, Fluff, Foreplay, Implied Drug Use, Kissing, M/M, NSFW, Past Abuse, Secret Relationship, Sex, Tobacco use, Torture, Unsafe Sex, Violence, Yakuza, alcohol use, eluding to other ships, gambling mention, let hanzo have a dog 2017, modified russian roulette, non con kissing and touching, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovereign_Tea/pseuds/Sovereign_Tea
Summary: Talon had become a bit too bold for comfort in the eyes of Overwatch. During a Talon attack in England, evidence was found of a bigger plot to unravel Overwatch using more destructive means. In order to gain more information and prevent the attack, Hanzo is sent back to Hanamura, his home town and location of the rest of his yakuza family, to do business undercover with a Talon agent. And of course he needs a partner in crime. And who better than an ex-gangster?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first Overwatch fan fic, and boy am I excited to work on it! Look for additions to the tags as more chapters are released and the explicit rating will definitely apply to later chapters. As for everything else, besides bouncing ideas off my friend Kitten who you can find at http://kittenball.tumblr.com/ , I'm not planning much. Let's see where it goes~
> 
> If you guys are interested, I also have a tumblr where I reblog ship related stuff (especially McHanzo), and AUs and stuff. Check it out~ https://sinningtea.tumblr.com/

Arrows zipped through the air of the hanger, going from one end to another, smashing through metal robots that were tooling around. Most were missing limbs and parts, some were sparking in a slightly worrying way, but that was why they were being used for target practice. Hanzo stood at one end of the small hanger, bow in hand, quiver on his back, stringing arrow after arrow at the moving targets, never missing. Every day like clockwork Hanzo would scan his card at the front door to get access to the training hanger, boot up the robots who had predetermined routes, and practice his archery for an hour; if he was in a foul mood sometimes he would destroy all the robots Torbjorn had available.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he slung his last arrow; he had been training in archery since he was young but even so the constant pull back on his arm was a bit of a work out. He had just started collecting his arrows from the remains of the robots when Athena came over the intercom throughout the Gibraltar base.

            ‘ _Attention Overwatch agents. I am pleased to announce the return of those involved in Mission L-0KR. I repeat, I am pleased to announce the return of those involved in Mission L-0KR.’_

 _That was Genji’s mission to London_ , Hanzo thought to himself. If Athena was announcing their return, that meant their transport had already landed and they were disembarking.

With a little bit more haste in his step the archer collected his arrows and buzzed for the cleanup bots to come out. He swiped his card at the door to sign out and made his way out of the hanger. Overwatch’s Gibraltar base was a labyrinth of buildings, some repurposed from hundreds of years before, others new. They had a large landing strip for their jets and transports to take off from, whole repair bays, barracks, a science division building, a food building…Their old leaders had spared no expense in having a state of the art facility capable of housing hundreds of employees. Hanzo crossed from Hanger 1—the shooting range—across an expansive patch of grass into one of their larger adjacent building titled Hanger 5. The large metal garage doors were up, indicating a new landing. As Hanzo crossed inside, one hand gripping his quiver’s strap across his chest, he nearly collided with part of the flight crew. It looked like a hive of bees inside; people crossed the floor, this way and that, refueling the large transporter that had just landed, while others were shuffling bags and the like. He crossed the transport bay, his sharp eyes scanning the immensely spacious building for the glimmer of his walking metal brother.

It came as a bit of surprise when Hanzo realized he couldn’t find him. If something had happened to him on the mission he would have been notified.

_Where could he be?_

He looped back out of the building, his suspicion that his brother had merely headed back to his room. The barracks were the biggest building on the base. There was no difference between the women’s dorms and the men’s, only separate showers. Each room was identical—room enough one person more than comfortably, furnished with the typical basic items. Decorating was left up to whoever used the space. Genji had a space on the eighth floor of ten—one above Hanzo.

A small part of him was still wondering how it had come to be that the only children of the Shimada clan leader were together again, fighting for peace keepers. Hanzo as the direct heir to the most powerful yakuza clan in Japan had been in training since his birth; etiquette and book smarts had been beat into him quite literally since he was old enough to walk and talk. He learned how to properly eat amongst company, how to sit in seiza, how to pray at the temple, and all the other things that made him appear the most polite child in existence. His mother was at the head of his training at first, teaching to be the perfect heir his father had being aiming for. She also made sure his tutors were the best trained from the highest ranked universities in Japan. By the time he was an adult he could talk circles around people and engage intellects in deep conversations. Genji was the exact opposite of Hanzo. Where Hanzo excelled at book learning and being a proper host, Genji was more interested in running with the other kids in the clan, hitting up ramen stands and arcades. Hanzo interacted with people for business, Genji did it for friends. As far as their father was concerned, Genji was a disgrace. This only increased after he realized how many people Genji had snuck into his bed. Hanzo was the perfect—albeit lonely—son.

_And that’s why he…_

Hanzo scanned his card at the entrance of the barracks. The lounge like area immediately inside the doorway was empty, but that was to be expected considering it was most people’s lunch time. The archer crossed the deserted lobby and swiped his card across another scanner to gain admittance to the elevator. Just as he was about to press the ‘up’ button he heard scuffling coming towards him. Out of instinct he placed his hand out to catch the door, only for someone else’s large hand to land on top of his and push the closing doors apart. With the doors now open, he could see the grin that slowly lit up the scruffy face of the other man.  

            “Howdy Hanzo!” Into the elevator came the ever grinning cowboy: Jesse McCree. The man was carrying with him a large blue duffle bag, dressed in his red serape, chest plate, spurred cowboy boots, and of course, that _ridiculous_ hat. He seemed a bit out of breath. “Fancy meetin’ y’ here,” the cowboy said, pressing the door shut and the button for eight. “Were y’ comin’ up t’ welcome me home?”

Hanzo snorted and couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I hadn’t realized you were gone,” was his curt reply.

McCree made a gesture to cover his heart with his gloved hand. “Ouch. How could y’ not miss little ol’ me?”

            “Easily. You would not _believe_ the amount of _quiet_ meditation I was able to accomplish.”

The elevator started its slow climb as the two stood in silence under the white glow of the overhead light. Well, relative silence. McCree, Hanzo was convinced, was utterly incapable of silence; he was either tapping a foot, cracking his neck, fumbling around with his gun…It was as if the quiet scared him. Even his gun was louder than most—Hanzo could hear the bangs of it even before he entered the shooting range. As McCree stood in the elevator with him he was humming some sort of tune under his breath. Then as they passed floor six McCree reached out and pressed the emergency stop button. The elevator came to an abrupt stop, jerking Hanzo in the process.

            “What are you—“

As he whipped around to confront McCree he felt himself being pushed into the wall on his right. The archer let out a huff as air was pushed out of him, then the smallest grunt as his lips were covered by the cowboy’s. Bow and duffle bag were forgotten on the floor, McCree with his arms on either side of Hanzo’s head, Hanzo’s coming to wrap slowly around his hips. McCree’s lips were firm and insistent and Hanzo allowed them to smash into his, and even opened his mouth for the other man at the first swipe of his tongue. It was the feeling of McCree’s metal hand going into his kyudo-gi that made Hanzo push him away.

            “What the hell?” he barked. A rattlesnake ready to strike. He hated being taken off guard more than anything. And damn if this loud cowboy somehow always managed to catch him by surprise.

McCree grinned at him and adjusted his hat. That grin was _infuriating_. “I missed y’, that’s all.”

            “You cannot just stop the elevator to—“

            “Can and did darlin’,” Jesse purred. For having a Shimada before him ready to strike he was beyond relaxed. Hanzo scowled at him and reached around him to punch the button again. The elevator jerked back to life only to be shut down again by the cowboy. “Aw, come on Hanzo.” McCree was actually pouting. “I’ve been gone fer so long. And I missed y’. There ain’t any cameras in here. Can’t we just…?”

The scowl remained and again the button was pushed. “ _No._ Anyone could walk in and see us.”

            “That hasn’t stopped y’ before.” To that Hanzo didn’t have a reply. It was true. They had been far handsy-er in far more public locales, just in the blind spot of cameras, but McCree backed off with a sigh sensing the battle was lost. “Yer such a damn tease. One day y’ act like yer gonna climb me like a tree, the next I can’t even get y’ t’ talk nice t’ me. And yer always so _exposed_.” His eyes trailed over Hanzo’s exposed pec teasingly.

Hanzo huffed, attempting to pull his top closed. “You are an idiot.”

The two of them had been secretly together for about half a year by then. It started with a confession by McCree one day while the cowboy watched him train in the shoot range.

            _“I like you.”_

Hanzo hadn’t even paused his shooting. He only snorted in reply, _“People don’t_ like _me. They tolerate me.”_

            _“Well I do. Yer beautiful.”_

That had made Hanzo’s aim so off it was comical. After the arrow flew to the far corner of the room he had rounded on McCree. _“What the hell are you saying? Are you mocking me, cowboy?”_

 _“Wouldn’t dream of it!”_ He had pulled his hat down to cover his face a little. _“You’ve kind of grown on me. Yer beautiful, talented with that bow…yer dedicated…I wanna get t’ know y’ better.”_

And that was how Hanzo reluctantly had agreed to date McCree. Their line of work hadn’t allowed for too many dates—although they did go drinking in the nearby town one night. Most of their “dating” consisted of them eating meals together, going to the shooting range, and “occasionally” (the two had far different definitions of how frequently) stealing a kiss or two. Stopping the elevator had been the boldest step either of them had taken. McCree had alluded that he wouldn’t mind getting more involved, but Hanzo refused, never saying why.

McCree reached out and caressed Hanzo’s goatee. “I missed y’ while I was away. Next time y’ should send me with a picture or two,” he teased before hitting the button again.

Hanzo looked away, trying to deny the burn of his cheeks. “Pervert.”

            “I’m just sayin’—“

The doors opened to the eighth floor and Hanzo immediately grabbed his bow and made his exit. Of course McCree was on his heels like a hound dog. Hanzo came to a stop before Genji’s door (the third one off the elevator). McCree stopped too.

            “Hey, since I’m back do y’ want to come over for some drinks and a movie?” the cowboy asked. Hanzo raised an eyebrow at him. _A date?_ “My delivery of that old movie _300_ came in finally, and I have a bottle of whiskey with our names on it.” His eyes were big, bright, brown, and hopeful. For someone with the swagger of an American god he got flustered and embarrassed at the weirdest times; he could go from asking for revealing pictures of another man with a straight face to blushing like a school boy just asking for a date.

Before the archer could reply the phone tablet in his pocket began to ring. When he pulled it out Winston’s face was flashing on its white surface. “Hanzo speaking,” he answered, turning slightly away from the cowboy. McCree just watched, face drooping ever so slightly as the conversation continued. Hanzo’s eyes flicked back and forth as he listened, running information through his head as their leader spoke. “Now?” His eyes met McCree’s and then flicked down. “I will be there soon. Yes. Goodbye.”

McCree knew what was coming the moment Hanzo opened his mouth. “Winston need y’?”

Hanzo nodded. “It’s a mission debrief.” If there was a debriefing before the mission like this Hanzo could only reason it was going to be an involved mission. Overseas? Probably. Something in his gut told him this was more serious than others.

 _And if he’s meeting with just me…_ There was a high chance that it was either going to be just him on the mission or a very small group. _Does that mean I’ll be the leader?_

            “Sounds serious.” McCree adjusted his hat. This definitely wasn’t the answer he was expecting, let alone wanted. “Well, I can’t expect y’ to know when you’ll be done so…’nother day perhaps?”

A noncommittal noise was Hanzo’s only reply. McCree made a slight huff of his own before leaning in to kiss him lightly on the mouth. Hanzo’s eyes slid shut against the feeling. The feather light press brought back memories of long ago in Hanamura; the feeling of _sakura_ blossoms against his skin. When McCree pulled back he found himself leaning forward to continue the contact.

            “I shouldn’t keep Winston waiting.”

 _He’s never still for long, that’s for sure,_ McCree found himself thinking. He watched Hanzo turn back down the hallway and head back to the elevator. He flashed a grin at the archer before the elevator doors shut before it dropped off his face entirely. “I can’t get a break can I?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Thank you guys for all the views and comments! I'm glad that there were so many people interested in more! I've added a couple tags (although none should be a surprise). Here we go! Enjoy!

The lights were dimmed when Hanzo entered the conference-like room. He had to travel all the way across the base to the Central HQ building to get to this meeting with Winston, but when he entered he knew that it was more than Winston had told him. A tire that was to serve as Winston’s seat sat on one side of a long table, along with two other normal chairs. There was only one chair on the opposite side of the table and Hanzo had a sneaking suspicion that was to be his seat. A large screen was mounted to the wall to his seat’s right that had a map of the world and active Overwatch bases flashing on it. And perhaps not surprisingly, the Venetian blinds were pulled tightly closed against the fading daylight.

 As he entered he was greeted with a professional smile by Angela, the top medic in all of Overwatch as well as one of the few remaining original members. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, allowing only for her bangs to hang down. Glasses sat on the bridge of her nose so she could read the documents she was shuffling through, and in place of her battle suit—which was how Hanzo saw her most of the time—she was wearing her white lab coat. Her blue eyes regarded him coolly.

            “Glad you could make it Shimada-San,” she said. Her smile might seem inviting to anyone else but it kept Hanzo on his toes. He _knew_ she wasn’t fond of him. And why should she be? He knew the kind of monstrous actions he was capable of considering she was the one that gave Genji his new body. The two always exchanged pleasantries and were professional, but they were like a pair of circling dogs, waiting for one to mess up so the other could attack.

_But would she?_

            “Dr. Ziegler,” he acknowledged.

            “About time you showed up.” Morrison was just coming through the door with a cup of coffee. He slammed the door behind him and went around to sit beside Angela. The silver haired man appeared to have just woken up—possibly from a quick nap, and had a death grip on his cup. A leather jacket and jeans was what he sauntered in wearing and Hanzo had to admit it suited him. Thin rimmed glasses emerged out of his front breast pocket when he sat down but it did nothing to hide the scowl on his face.

Angela smiled at him over her own papers. “Have a pleasant nap Jack?”

            “I’m more tired than when I fell asleep,” he snapped.

            “You probably woke up in the middle of a R.E.M. cycle. Studies show—“

            “I know why I’m tired Angela.” The man was irritable and tired. Hanzo kept his face stoic but his mind was likening his commander to a toddler. “Where’s Winston—“

            “Sorry I’m late!” Just then Winston came through the doorway, weighed down by more papers. While Jack served as their leader, Winston was the brains behind the new Overwatch. Despite his hairy appearance he was actually the smartest person on the Overwatch crew. “I’m glad you could all make it.”

Angela chuckled. “Was it optional?”

            “No but…” The gorilla coughed into his hands. He perched himself on his tire and began thumbing through the papers. Winston’s eyes flicked up to meet Hanzo’s. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.”

Hanzo crossed one leg over the other in his chair. “You said it was a debrief on my next mission.” The archer regarded his boss across the table with a sharp look that had Winston shifting nervously. “Is there more to it than that?” He held up a hand to silence the ape, “Of course there is, or else Commander Morrison and Dr. Ziegler wouldn’t be here.”

            “Perceptive as always,” Winston sighed. “Part of the reason you’re the only one here.”

Angela slid a folder across the table at Hanzo. It was packed with papers and the front of the folder Jack’s handwriting all over it. The photo clipped to the front however made Hanzo glare up at his superiors. “What is the meaning of this?” Hanzo’s first picture as an Overwatch employee was clipped to the front. He could remember them taking it; He had been in Hanamura only days before when he had run into Genji at their old home, and after a confrontation he followed Genji across the world to Gibraltar. His brother convinced him if he wanted redemption—which he wanted more than life itself—that joining Overwatch would help. The picture was taken the day he landed by none other than Angela. His eyes looked dead and tired with dark circles under them, his mouth pressed into a firm frown, his hair pooling down his neck.

Winston pushed his glasses up his face. “I’m sure you’re aware Genji and a few other agents just returned from King’s Row.”    

            “Yes, Genji was in England for almost a month,” Hanzo replied carefully. His finger tapped his picture on the folder. “What does _that_ have to do with _this_?”

Jack took quick control. “Their original mission was to safely get a shipment of weapons from one point to another.” His eyes were sharp, staring into Hanzo’s until Hanzo looked away. “You might be familiar with the company that hired us—the Vishkar Corporation.”

Hanzo’s lip immediately pulled back in a snarl. “ _Vishkar?_ Is it not bad enough we have to deal with that _woman_ , but we are at their beck and call as well?”

            “Look _kid_ ¸ I don’t like it any more than you do,” Jack growled, “in fact, I probably like it less. Regardless, it was a _job_ and got a good amount of money.”

            “Plus it helped with Overwatch-Vishkar relations,” Angela added.

Commander Morrison waved her comment off. “We were successful in our mission in the end, but in the middle we had a…bump.”

            “Talon?”

Jack nodded. “The escort got ambushed down a side street and some of the weapons were stolen. Of course we gave chase. Ended up in a warehouse on the other side of town.” Jack had been there and had gunned down a lot of talon agents if rumor held true. “The tldr version is we won and got access to the Talon warehouse,” Jack continued, the acronym sounding strange on the older man’s tongue.

Winston chimed in. “Some of those documents were rather…well, not as useful as others. Others were gems. Others…alarming.”    

            “And that’s why you’re here,” Jack said. “There were some documents alluding to some sort of…” He pulled a paper out of the pile and examined it under his glasses. “‘Weapon destructive to the point Overwatch will not be able to recover’.”

Angela’s slid a copy of the document across the table to Hanzo. His eyes widened as he the words on the page leapt out at him. He picked it up hesitantly. “It’s in Japanese…”

            “They’re involved with yakuza in Japan.” Winston shook his head. “Hanamura’s yakuza to be exact.”

Hanzo’s frown impossibly deepened. “The Shimada you mean.”

            “Unfortunately.”

Jack resumed control. “From the documents we collected, they all point to an alliance between Talon and the Shimada. There is some sort of weapons trade between them, one of which may be something of alarming power.”

            “Are you thinking nuclear?” Hanzo asked.

The medic was the one to answer. “At the moment we don’t believe it’s _that_ powerful, but we aren’t writing it off as a possibility.”

Hanzo slid the paper back across the table. “And what exactly do you want me to do? I am not exactly in the good graces of my _former_ clan.” He had to stress the last part. He had been forced into killing his brother because of the Shimada, but afterwards he had rebelled and had hunted down much of his kin. Frankly he was surprised there was enough of the Shimada left to still be considered a force to be reckoned with.

            “We are well aware.” Was Jack seriously smirking? “But we need someone to go check out the status in Hanamura.”

            “Hanzo…” Winston looked uncomfortable to say the least. “We’re sending you in to find about the weapon they’re talking about.”

Hanzo stared at Winston as if he had two heads. “Do you not understand that I _escaped_ from there? Why would I go back into the dragon’s den?” he hissed.

            “We cannot send Genji,” Morrison stated. “His current state will make him more than noticeable. We need someone familiar to the area, the customs, and for fuck’s sake, someone who speaks Japanese.”

            “Of course we will send you in with all the provisions you need,” Angela stated. “You will be put up in a hotel, not too far from the Shimada Estate—“

 _My old home._ Memories of the cherry blossoms and the rock garden flooded his mind: happy days where he was still a child. Then the blood on the dojo floor, his brother’s body.

He jerked back to the now and found Angela eyeing him curiously before continuing. “Your entire identity will be rewritten—obviously you cannot be Shimada Hanzo in this situation.”

            “What is my cover?” Hanzo almost dreaded asking.

Winston adjusted his glasses, reading off another paper. “Honda Aaya, aged thirty and eight years, originally born in the outskirts of Tokyo, son of a business man who struck it rich during the omnic crisis developing tech for the Japanese government. The heir of Kimiko Inc., a technology developer, who’s interested in the Talon weaponry.”

Hanzo silently listened. He would have to adjust his Japanese slang slightly to accommodate the change in region if he was to be from Tokyo. _Aaya….Could be worse._ “And my reason to be in Hanamura….?”

            “You were in the Europe doing business for a decade but had to come back to Japan for your father’s funeral.” Winston slid another paper forward with an image of a grim looking man on it. “I had a team forge a lot of documents already and plant them so you seem legit. This is your ‘father’.”

            “How long am I to be there?”

            “Until you find out what this weapon is,” Morrison growled.

Angela looked thoughtful. “There’s a good chance the weapon itself is in Hanamura. The Shimada practically run the town, correct? If you be friend them—“She stopped talking when she saw the snarl that came across the archer’s face. “ _Use_ them Shimada-san.”  

            “You are not there for vengeance,” their leader snapped upon seeing Hanzo’s face. “You are to get in, gain their trust, find out what you need to, and _leave_. You are a soldier of Overwatch, this is your mission.”

He didn’t like it. Far from it. The thought of having to board a plane and fly back to the place where everything was ruined for him made his gut twist. Everything would be so familiar, he would see the faces of old neighbors and have to pretend he didn’t know the place where he spent two decades of his life.

            “Of course you’re not going alone,” Winston said, as if that was to diminish his unwillingness to go. “Jesse McCree will also be going with you.”

 _Of course. The gods must be laughing at me._ “Why chose the cowboy?”

            “Because an heir of a company needs a body guard correct?” Winston pointed out. “He will be covering as Eric Creed, bodyguard from the Queen’s Guard Company of America. You’ve known him most of your life.”

Mercy had a whole stack of papers for him to look over; one pile was about his cover (he saw another one for McCree), and another was a summary of what they knew about Talon’s mystery weapon thus far—unfortunately that one condensed to only a couple pages.

Morrison sipped his coffee, staring over the rim of his cup at Hanzo. “You leave in forty-eight hours. Read over this, come to us with any questions. And for god’s sake, talk to the damn kid that’s going with you. The sooner you get over your little prissy attitude towards people the easier this will be.”

 _If only you knew._ “Understood,” Hanzo replied curtly, gathering up the papers into a large pile. “Am I dismissed?”

Mercy nodded. “For now. If there are any updates we will notify you.”

            “Now we have to get that cowboy in here.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Explaining things to him is always so…strenuous.”

**

Jesse had gotten a cryptic text from Angela. ‘Meeting in conference room 14. Be there at 7:00pm.’ The cowboy managed to scarf down a quick diner and fix himself up a little before crossing one of several quads on his way to this strange meeting. The air was cool as it blew in from the nearby ocean—McCree could practically taste the salt in the air. The sky was just beginning to darken, painting like fire mixing with dark velvet in the distance. McCree could make out the first stars blinking into existence. Crossing on the grass patches he could see Comm Tower 1, one of the oldest on the base. Originally it had been used as one of the first telecommunication relays on the base, allowing for calls in and out of the base but it fell into disuse due to advancements in technology. It stood a tall white pillar against the backdrop of the sea; sometimes they used it for training exercises, but not regularly since the addition of actual training buildings. From the other end of the quad he got a good view of the looming fossil.

Despite the impending dark, or perhaps because of it, the glimmer of something metal and foreign in one of the upper wall openings drew McCree’s attention even from where he was across the quad. He stopped and adjusted his hat in an attempt to see better. The shine of metal was a flask being raised to a pair of lips. The person had their backs to McCree, their attention in the direction of the ocean.

He was about to walk towards the tower to investigate but his phone in his pocket buzzed. It was Angela demanding his presence.

**

The flask became empty far too quickly. The contents had burned in the best way as it slid down Hanzo’s throat but it did not distract him from his impending trip. He lost track of time in his solitude, his mind replaying once fond memories of his youth again and again, always ending with _those_ eyes upon him.

何をした！弟はどうした！

化け物 !*

 

 _Goddammit._ He tossed his flask to the side. He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober. He found himself in an annoying middle ground, too aware of his predicament. The ocean looked black under the dark of the night, the only light coming from a silver crescent moon and a million stars. It was fairly dark out by the base making it a perfect place to stargaze. Genji and Zenyatta had introduced him to the sight. The air was getting chilly but the alcohol made his skin feel warm.

Just as he felt as though he might doze off, he heard a noise to his right.

            “It is you,” came a voice. Coming up the stairwell was none other than McCree. He had his red serape around his shoulders and a stack of familiar looking papers in his hands. The cowboy saw the empty flask. “I see y’ already had yer meeting.”

Hanzo grumbled at him but didn’t necessarily reply. McCree’s spurs clinked noisily as he made his way over to Hanzo, and then lacking any grace plopped down next to his soon to be partner. “I guess we’re going t’ Japan,” he said, eyes cast outward towards the black shining waves. “We’ll just have t’ make it quick so we can come back soon.” He flashed a grin.

            “You must know I am not happy about this,” Hanzo growled.

            “Oh I’ve been warned. Trust me.”

The gunslinger removed his sarape and cast it around Hanzo. He accepted it by pulling it a little tighter around him; it smelled like McCree’s cologne and cigarillo smoke. It was strangely comforting. McCree pulled a cigarillo out of his breast pocket and flicked up his lighter for a smoke. The smoke trailed upwards in silvery wisps. They sat in silence for a long time, enough time for McCree to entirely smoke his cigarillo before flicking it away.

            “Hanzo.”

 _Don’t say my name._ But Hanzo found himself turning almost eagerly at McCree’s call. They pressed their lips together firmly. Their facial hair scraped together as they continued, eventually turning from gentle kisses to tongues sliding against one another’s, one man tasting of sake and the other of smoke.

Hanzo had kept the other man at arm’s length since they met. Jesse McCree was too inviting, too easy to let his guard down around. He palled around with everyone, always kind and smiling. For someone who knew a decade or more of misery Hanzo felt drawn to him. And it startled him. It took a long time for McCree to break through Hanzo’s outer defenses enough to consider Hanzo a friend, and even longer to get up the nerve to ask the stoic archer to date him.

The kissing turned desperate and erratic until Hanzo finally pulled away dazed.

 _When did it get to this?_ Hanzo wondered.

The Japanese man pressed his forehead to McCree’s and gave a long sigh.

            “It’ll be okay Hanzo,” McCree murmured. “I promise.”

            “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

But somewhere inside he believed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak Japanese. Any Japanese text in this fic is directly taken from google translate. If you are fluent in Japanese and you see an error in the translation google provided me, please feel free to comment and I'll fix it! 
> 
> Translation:  
> *--What have you done? Where is your brother? Monster!
> 
> EDIT:  
> Thank you Lendsina for the comment on the Japanese! I used your translation instead!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back y'all. I hope the format for this chapter looks correct--for whatever reason It wouldn't upload correctly. Anyway, look for new tags in the fic description, and know this is a nsfw chapter! (although nothing real bad imo) Enjoy!

_Oooh, they have bacon today._

McCree hummed to himself as he went down the buffet line, filling his plate to the brim with breakfast food. Pancakes were piled high and coated in syrup, on the side he had scrapple, a few small sausage links, and because Angela had glared at him an orange slice. In one hand he balanced his plate while in the other he held a cup of dark coffee; the coffee wasn’t black---because god, the only man he knew who could drink that shit was Reyes back in the day—but it certainly was strong. The cowboy found himself a seat at one of the mess benches next to Mei-Ling. The two couldn’t be a stranger pair. McCree was tall, hairy, and preferred to wear his cowboy hat and a good flannel shirt. Mei was small with round features who likes to wear the puffiest coats available when she could. With the spring ending she had finally shed her coats in favor of one of her blue tank tops and yoga pants.

 “Ni hao!” she greeted with a bright smile. Her own plate was piled with fruits and a steamed bun with sausage inside. “I heard you and Hanzo get to go on an important mission together!”

McCree rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that t' hot gossip today?” He sat down on her right and began digging into his pancakes. Reinhardt was definitely on kitchen duty that morning—the pancakes were on point.

Mei nodded enthusiastically. “I overheard Winston talking to the Commander about it! Sounds really important.” She munched on her steamed bun happily. McCree enjoyed her; she was always upbeat, but not annoyingly so. Just being around her made him feel relaxed, like there had never been an omnic war, or Blackwatch. She stabbed into a strawberry with her fork before popping it in her mouth. “Where exactly are you going?”              

“Hanamura if y' can believe it.”

Her brown eyes widened as she looked over at him. “Oh no. That’s not good. Isn’t that Hanzo’s old…?”              

“Yup,” he sighed. “And he ain’t happy ‘bout it.”              

“I can imagine.” Mei looked very troubled by this news. “Be extremely careful while you’re there McCree. It’s a dangerous place.”

McCree sipped some coffee. “Y' make it sound like you’ve been there before.”              

“I have.” The troubled look only deepened. “It was a long time ago, so things maybe have changed, but…I was visiting another climatologist who lived in town.” She shivered. “There were a lot of men with tattoos—I think my friend called them ‘yakuza’? Regardless. They were scary.”

 _They were probably Hanzo’s kin._               

“They always seemed to be watching, maybe because I was a foreigner.” She shrugged. “They never bothered me, but I was always leery of them. You could tell they were up to no good.”              

“Sounds scary,” McCree commented with another sip of coffee. He had always wondered what actual yakuza were like. McCree himself had ran with a gang when he was young and troubled—the Deadlock Gang. They ran Santa Fe like a pack of wild dogs, killers for hire and robbers of the worst kind. Dead Lock rode motorcycles, wore leather jackets, carried guns, and were typically very dangerous people prone to pop off. “I was pretty scary back in t' day too.”

Mei laughed. _Laughed._ “I don’t think you could be scary Jesse! You’re too good of a man.”

 _I wasn’t always. Reyes and Morrison scared me straight._ “Too nice? Then why do I have a bounty huh?”

Mei raised an eyebrow. “How high is it now?”              

“I would have to check that fer y'.” 

She shook her head but still had a smile on her lips. Despite her faith in him, McCree knew what kind of man he had been. Deadlock wasn’t just a gang; it was a way of life. They had an HQ where they slept in between raids, where they shot up drugs, where they drank, where they brought their whores. It had been at the back of a canyon, right near their warehouse where they stored all their weapons. The only way to access the hideout was by the road and under the sun nobody could just stroll in. The name McCree had carried weight back in the day. With a pistol he could take out six people at once—whether they be rival gangs or the cops, and people knew. After leaving home at fourteen he had been in a very dangerous head space. He had no sense of self-preservation, only the need to destroy, to maim, to kill. To say he drank heavily was an understatement—he drank himself to sleep most nights, or he busied himself with a whore. A cigar from his lip, a cowboy hat on his head, and that golden BAMF buckle front and center were his calling cards.  It had taken a raid by Overwatch and being beaten within an inch of his life to make him reconsider his life.  

 _Either you follow me and listen to whatever the fuck I tell you to do, or you’re going to spend the rest of your fucking life in prison._  

Gabriel Reyes, the second in command of Overwatch was the one who had saved him. He had been a punk, barely nineteen when it happened. He could remember it like it happened yesterday. He had been in their hangout, shooting darts, coming down off a high from being out on a train robbery that morning; they had gotten a ton of money and jewelry from the wealthy passengers. It had been an easy job. The sun had been high in the sky, baking the desert, and making being outside unsavory to say the least. He had been shooting the shit with some guy—what had his name been?—and tossing darts when the door shattered and in stormed soldiers with heavy duty weaponry. As quick as he was Jesse hadn’t been able to even pull his pistol because he was being hit over the head by the back end of a shotgun. It took a couple hits, but eventually Jesse couldn’t even keep conscious. When he woke up he was having water splashed on him.  There hadn’t been any torture—it hadn’t come to that, a couple hard hits and Jesse knew who was boss. Gabe, the most intimidating man McCree had _ever_ met had given him a choice—give him intel on Deadlock and join Overwatch, or rot in prison where he risked gang retaliation while he waited for the death penalty. The man had acknowledged Jesse’s pistol skills were extraordinary, but not enough so that Gabe wouldn’t think about tossing him to the dogs. It hadn’t taken much thought for Jesse to choose correctly.  

 _And where are you now boss?_  

McCree was stirred from his thoughts when he saw Hanzo come through the mess hall doors. His ink black hair was pulled back in a yellow ribbon and he wore his black kyudo-gi and hakuma like he had been to the shooting range already. His brow was furrowed.  _He’s not happy_.                

“Hanzo!” he called out with a wave.  

The archer looked up at the sound of his name and upon seeing McCree merely nodded before getting a plate and getting breakfast. He moved like ghost. As McCree watched him he realized that Hanzo didn’t speak to anyone as he made himself a bowl of oyakodon and a bowl of miso soup. The man moved with light steps, moving around people without bumping anyone, each movement seemingly calculated but natural at the same time. _A ghost._  Nobody stopped him to talk. He found a pair of chopsticks and hesitantly made his way to sit next to McCree. Mei greeted him in Japanese and Hanzo replied in kind.                

“Were y' already at the range?” McCree asked, glancing him over.

Hanzo nodded as he began eating. “I had an early start.” When McCree gave him a questioning stare he elaborated with, “Sleep eluded me.”               

“You should drink some chamomile tea before bed,” Mei offered. “It helps me sleep for sure. And it tastes good!”              

“Thank you. I will keep that in mind,” Hanzo said politely.  

Hanzo had a strange relationship with the others in Overwatch, Jesse reflected. From what he was told, the only reason he was there and not wandering the world still was that Genji begged him to stay. Hanzo seemed very attached to his brother, but also regarded him with caution as if the cyborg was an imposter. Mei and McCree were the only ones that went out of their way to talk to him, and to be honest, they did that with most people. Commander Morrison thought he was a brilliant asset and liked talking strategy with Hanzo, but even so they weren’t close. Winston almost seemed afraid of him, and Mercy was cautious to say the least. Everyone else was pleasant enough with him on missions, making small talk at times and at least thanking him for watching their backs, but overall he had no friends. He was an outsider. But Jesse had been drawn to him. He was walking grace—a god of the hunt. On missions Hanzo was a shadow on the rooftops, raining arrows down on unsuspecting Talon agents. They either fought in the shadow or a single shot would take out a target. He held himself with pride that was second to none. His eyes, albeit dark, were piercing like a bird of prey. His past was mysterious but seemingly dark, adding to the intrigue. Genji had always spoke highly of his older brother—his complements on his character coming directly after details on how Hanzo nearly had killed him. McCree was finding out firsthand how Hanzo operated. He was a bit of a contradiction. In one sense, he had a lot of pride and was private in his emotions. He didn’t ask for help with anything, and his face was very hard to read other than when he was annoyed or angry. And yet, when the cowboy kissed him he felt warmth radiating from the kiss—hesitant yes, but a willing and pliant. The cowboy could only wonder what went on behind those deadly eyes.

“It was nice to talk to you both!” Jesse jerked out of his thoughts to Mei standing up with her dirty dishes in hand. “I have a meeting to attend soon, so I have to go.” 

The men bid her a good day and watch her prance across the room to return her plate and silverware. It was just the two of them then. Jesse dropped a hand to soothe across Hanzo’s thigh, careful that nobody could pick up on the gesture. Hanzo jerked at the sudden touch and gave him an annoyed look but said nothing.“Hey.”

Hanzo scowled at him. “Hey?”

Jesse danced his flesh fingers up and down Hanzo’s thigh. “Can I cash in on that rain check? For last night?”

The Japanese man averted his eyes. “Today?”              

“Yeah, why not? We got all day to ourselves before we leave in the morning t' Hanamura.” Jesse sipped down the rest of his coffee. Reinhardt made the best—better than that dirt they served in that damn diner near Deadlock headquarters.               

“What did you have in mind?” His miso soup was done and there was only a little of his other dish left.

McCree rubbed a hand on his hairy chin. “How about…a night out. I can’t remember the last time I got t' go out drinkin’.” He flashed a grin. “There’s a good bar in town I can take y' t'.” He watched Hanzo’s eyes dart down to his lips and back up again. _Oh don’t be doin’ that darlin’._                

“That wouldn’t be so bad I suppose.” The archer looked thoughtful, his eyes constantly lowering from Jesse’s eyes to his lips. “How shall we get there?”              

“I got a bike out in the hanger,” Jesse declared proudly.              

“A…bike?”

The American threw back his head in a laugh. “A _motor_ bike. A motorcycle,” he corrected.

Hanzo looked skeptical, absent mindedly shoveling food in his mouth as mulled over McCree’s words. “How did you manage that?”              

“I had ‘er when I rolled in deadlock. It was one of t' few things Reyes let me bring with me. He wanted me t' leave my hat too,” he tipped it upwards, “and y' see how well that worked.”

A small smile popped up on Hanzo’s face briefly before disappearing. “A shame he wasn’t more forceful about it.” By then both men were done with their food. Hanzo finally ripped his eyes off of McCree and cast it to the far end of the room. “Would you care to join me for a walk? I would like to discuss our covers for this mission.”              

“Would love t'.”

* * *

 

The two had ended up leaving the mess, walking across the grounds to the old comm tower Hanzo had been drinking in the night before. Along the way they talked about their covers—Aaya and Eric. Aaya’s father had been the one to hire Eric, they decided. Eric had been a troubled youth from the southern United States, he had been bounced between juvenile detention facilities because he was constantly getting into fights, but he finally joined up with Queen’s Guard and got his life on the straight and narrow. The two were close due to spending the better part of a decade together, and Eric had saved Aaya’s life more than once. Where Eric was pretty stoic around everyone in order to get good beats on people’s personalities, Aaya was naturally talkative and outgoing. He was educated, loved classical music, reading, and avoided karaoke like the plague. 

The “walk” Hanzo had proposed hadn’t lasted long.

They ended up on the upper floor of the tower, Hanzo being held against the floor, McCree above him, kissing him into oblivion. Their mouths smashed together hungrily, strings of saliva connecting them. McCree’s hands wandered up his lover’s wonderful thighs while Hanzo dug his nails into the cowboy’s shoulders hard enough to leave half crescent shapes. Tongues glided together in sloppy abandon. Hanzo’s ribbon found itself on the floor allowing inky black hair to spill down. They kept in the shadows of the room, careful nobody from outside could see them in passing.                                             

“God damn darlin’, what’s got into you this mornin’?” McCree purred in between kisses.

Hanzo didn’t reply; he just kept kissing like a thirsty man getting his first drink of water. And McCree didn’t mind. Either the archer couldn’t get enough of McCree or he didn’t want McCree so much as looking at him. He was definitely a difficult person to read. Wasn’t there a Japanese word Genji used to describe him a long time ago? Today was different. The night before Hanzo had been tipsy—that much McCree could tell—and had wanted closeness. Hanzo’s hands were roaming over him now, finally popping open the buttons on the front of McCree’s shirt and slipping inside to glide across his skin in hungry exploration.

“That feels nice,” McCree sighed, a content expression on his face. Nails and finger pads alternated dancing in lines across his back and pecs before sweeping down his arms. It was an unexpected pinch of one of his nipples that ripped the first moan from his mouth. “Whoa there—“Whatever he was about to say next was lost when Hanzo leaned in, flicking his tongue against the pink nub. McCree moaned again, louder this time. “ _Darlin’_.” 

Hanzo’s eyes glanced up to meet his as his tongue continued to lap at McCree’s nipple. _Oh boy_. If that wasn’t the prettiest sight McCree had seen in, well, _ever_ , then he had no idea what was. Hanzo continued undisturbed, his tongue circling and licking before moving onto the other. McCree hovered above him, elbows supporting his weight so as not to crush Hanzo. This was the most amorous thing Hanzo had ever done to him and it was downright thrilling. To have the mighty Shimada dragon below him, running tongue now downwards and into his navel humbled the cowboy. How had he gotten so lucky? It was the clink of his golden belt being undone that snapped him to attention.               

“Hanzo?” he breathed. He received no reply. Instead the hot mouth trailed further down along the hair going south, fingers were popping open his pants button and sliding the zipper down. “ _Baby_ -“

“Hush.” Hanzo said the words hot against his hip bone before placing an open mouthed kiss there. After the zipper came down, fingers hooked into McCree’s pants and boxers and slowly slid them down. A choking noise filled the room. Jesse didn’t want to admit it had come from him, but it did. The feeling of his quickly hardening cock springing free from its confines was enough to make him moan. The kisses stopped. McCree looks down—realizing he had shut his eyes at some point—only to see Hanzo _staring_ at it.               

“S-Something wrong?” he asked nervously. It had been a long time since someone else had been down there, and he had never had someone stare at it. He had been told it was rather large—maybe that was off putting?  

A red blush blossomed on Hanzo’s face. “Is that a…piercing?” The words came out as if he had been holding his breath. 

McCree nodded hastily. He had gotten it about a year before the Overwatch raid on Deadlock. It had hurt like a _bitch_ , but the partners that had shared his bed assured him that it was definitely a nice addition. It was a shiny gold barbell situated right under his head with two small balls on either side. “I got it when I was young I just never—“ 

And in an instant the tip of his cock was immersed in a head spinning heat that was Hanzo’s mouth. McCree almost lost his footing. Surprised he let out a loud moan and had to stop from jerking forward into the wet cavern. Hanzo’s tongue toyed with the metal, sliding against it, flicking the balls at the ends. The cowboy’s head was swimming. It had been years since someone had given him head. 

_Years._ He admitted to himself grumpily.  

The tongue swiped across the tip, teasing his slit before licking a stripe down towards the base, making his cock to twitch with anticipation. Kisses were pressed into the hair at the base before moving back up and experimentally licking the entire head. In a swift move McCree’s prick disappeared into Hanzo’s mouth.               

“God—Hanzo—“ 

Hands grabbed his hips, maneuvering him on to his back, lips never retreating from his cock. McCree allowed himself to be handled, relishing the feeling as Hanzo settled his torso between his legs for easier access. Jesse watched as Hanzo’s head slowly inched down, taking more and more of him in his mouth, all the while teasing his slit and piercing with his tongue. Little hums came from the archer as he worked. He pulled off suddenly with a loud pop in order to move back up his lover to tease McCree’s nipples with his mouth. Moaning was all Jesse could do; his fingers curled into Hanzo’s silky black hair. That sinful mouth moved back down south again after what seemed like an hour, this time taking Jesse in his mouth with a wet slurp.  

“ _Hanzo._ ”

The archer continued sucking, alternating between soft and hard, always teasing with his tongue. His eyes had fallen closed, same as Jesse, but opened during a particularly deep gulp to look up at McCree who was resting on his elbows to watch him work. The sight of those normally harsh eyes boring into him half lidded and iris blown wide with lust made McCree rocket towards his end.                

“Hanzo--!” was all the warning the archer got before the gunslinger was coming. Hanzo pulled off just in time for a mouthful of salty spend and a splatter across his lips. Jesse’s head fell back limp and his cock spent the very last bit across his naked chest, his breathing erratic. The white mess across Hanzo’s lips being licked away by a cute pink tongue would be a memory Jesse would hold selfishly dear. “God, darlin’…”  He pulled Hanzo down next to him, looping an arm around him. His head was absolutely spinning. “What was that all about?” He was given a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know.”

Jesse glanced over at him. “What do y' mean ‘don’t know’?”

He was flushed red—both from work and embarrassment. “I just…wanted to do it,” he admitted.

Jesse hummed happily. “Well damn. Feel free any time. Y' were great.”              

“Ah, good.” Hanzo drew little shapes on Jesse’s exposed chest. “It has been a long time since I’ve done that. I was hoping it was satisfactory.”                    

“It was more than satisfactory darlin’.” The duo laid next to each other for a long while trying to catch their breaths before either made an attempt to move. McCree tucked himself back away and buttoned his shirt back up while Hanzo retied his hair ribbon. Jesse went to roll onto Hanzo, after all, it would only be polite to get him off too, but the archer stopped him.                             

“No,” he told him.

Jesse blinked dumbly. Had he heard right? “What?”              

“I said no. If your intention was to reciprocate.”

The cowboy frowned. “And why would that be? I promise it won’t be bad,” he said with a grin.

Hanzo shook his head. “It is…not that,” he said shyly.               

“Then what?”              

“I would…” Hanzo looked uncomfortable, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes averted. “I would make _noise_.”  

 _OH._  

Jesse grinned and rubbed a ringer down Hanzo’s jaw. “Oh-ho. So yer noisy huh darlin’?”

Hanzo swatted at him. “I will _not_ having you doing those things to me out where anyone could walk in.”              

“But you just—“              

“I _know_ what I did, cowman.” The two continued to lay there, Jesse eventually lighting a cigarillo and sharing it with Hanzo who puffed on it awkwardly. He had seen Hanzo smoke cigarettes before after battles and at night once. The cigarillo looked cumbersome in his mouth.

 _Just like me_ , Jesse thought with glee.                

“We still good fer date night tonight?”

Hanzo nodded. “I’m going to go shower and meditate for a bit. We can go for dinner?”

Jesse pressed a kiss to his eager lips. “Sounds like a plan.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Here's a fun little chapter before we get down to business. All the translations are at the end. I really enjoyed writing this chapter--domestic McHanzo gives me life.

The bar McCree drove them to was set off the main highway into town, a little dark building on the street corner with a blinking red neon sign reading “Cactus Juice”. The city around was bright with night lights, the buildings reaching high and silver into the darkening sky; it was quite a different view than on base. Outside the bar cars and motorcycles were crammed into parking and people were milling about, most already intoxicated or merely out for a smoke in the fresh air. McCree parked his motorcycle—gleaming dark red and chrome—in and empty spot down the line, a good distance from the door. Hanzo was the first to step off, rather quickly at that, and remove his helmet. If he was flustered he tried not to notice; he had just spent the entire ride slotted against McCree’s warm back, arms wrapped tight around him. And _god_ where had he gotten the leather jacket from? He stepped back as McCree kicked down his bike stand and took off his own helmet.

            “See? Easy ride right?”

Hanzo scowled at him. “A bit speedy.”

            “Oh come on,” Jesse chuckled. “I know y' liked it.”

            “You’re just a pervert who wanted me to cling to you.”

McCree shrugged, a grin lighting up his face. “I ain’t about t' deny that, Sugar.”

Inside the bar was not too unusual, at least to Hanzo. Wooden tables were scattered about on the right side accompanied by chairs, and booths lined the wall each with its own personal overhead light fixture. The walls were painted an extremely dark red, and it all the other pieces of furniture was either a very dark wood or black like the floor. The bar took up the entire back wall and by the looks of it was already packed with people, each with a glass in hand and eyeing up the seemingly hundreds of bright colored bottles behind the counter. Billiards were set up on the side opposite of the booths along with a couple dart boards on the wall. A small dance floor was located in the center of the room, speakers blaring a bass heavy electronic music that was easily seductive. Hanzo eyed the couples grinding into one another to the music with a lifted brow. McCree led him over to a corner booth and slid across from him.

Hanzo was still looking around when McCree stirred him from his thoughts by sliding a bar menu at him. The problem arose when Hanzo went to read it.

            “I cannot read this McCree.”

The cowboy looked up from his own menu slowly, face confused. “Waddya mean?”

The eldest Shimada tapped some of the words. “This is in Spanish.”

            “Well darlin’, we are near Spain ain’t we?”

            “I thought they spoke English here?”

            “Ya, most do.” He shrugged.

Irritation was quickly setting in Hanzo’s features, namely in the crease between his brows. “How are you going to order?”

McCree rested his elbows and leaned forward slightly. A teasing smile came across his face that made something in Hanzo coil hotly. “Soy de Santa Fe. Crecí hablando español, Cariño.”  

The words left his mouth like flowing water; the sound natural, easy on the ears, and Hanzo could stop from thinking it suited McCree. Hanzo had grown up in Japan with little contact with any Spanish speaking nations, hence why he only knew Japanese and Korean fluently. It had taken a lot of work for him to learn English—unlike Genji who had learned it quickly by hanging out with other kids in Hanamura—and every now and then he had to ask McCree what something meant. His father had always considered it a shame Hanzo was not more gifted in language learning; as the heir to an international crime syndicate it would be beneficial to know what is being said around you at all times and not have to rely on a translator. But alas, Genji had been the one gifted with tongues.

In the time he had known the cowboy he hadn’t been aware Jesse spoke Spanish—it had never even occurred to him, possibly because he knew little of the south west United States. Hanzo waved him off. “I shall let you use your judgement and order for me.” It would be too tiresome for Hanzo to have McCree translate the entire menu. It was only bar food, how weird could it get?

            “Good choice,” the other man said with a wink. “I’ll just get y' what I usually order.”

They sat in silence for a minute. McCree seemed to be happily contemplating the menu judging by his “hm”s and “ah”s. He had dressed differently, Hanzo noted. The plaid button up had been replaced by a plain white t-shirt, covered by a soft black leather jacket. He still had his hat, belt, and of course those cowboy boots on. Hanzo had opted for a soft black t-shirt and dark jeans instead of his more traditional attire.

McCree scooted out of his side of the booth. “I’ma go put in our orders at the bar.” He gave an exaggerated wink that had the archer rolling his eyes.

When he came back a couple minutes later the cowboy was carrying two red paper baskets, one in each hand, each piled high with golden French fries covered in cheese and bacon pieces.

            “May I present t' best bar food known t' man,” Jesse announced.

The Japanese man stared at the food before him and then flicked his gaze up to his date. “Cheese fries?”

McCree huffed. “They ain’t just _cheese fries_ ,” he stated as if Hanzo had just insulted his mother. “They’re _bacon_ cheese fries! An’ ‘nothin’ quite beats ‘em.”

 

Hanzo didn’t argue, mainly because he knew he wouldn’t win. Instead he picked as fries, quietly munching on them while some song with a heavy bass drowned the chatter around him. The corner booth provided them a small oasis for themselves in the hustle bustle of the bar scene. McCree talked mostly, regaling old stories of his from his early Overwatch days. Hanzo listens, supplying a chuckle or a raised brow at the correct times. Eventually they find themselves each having a glass of whiskey.

McCree gestured wildly with the glass of whiskey in his flesh hand. “Oh Hanz, there was this one time—I will never forget—I almost died, an’ it wasn’t even cuz of Talon! Okay, so I back with Reyes was on the team, he was kind of my mentor y’know?” He took a sip of the cold whiskey, the ice knocking into his lips. “And god he was such a stick in t' mud. Y' couldn’t get ‘im to even crack a smile most of t' time, let alone laugh. God knows I tried. Anyway—“Another sip. “I walked into t' lounge area one afternoon after my workout, and it was packed with people—Morrison was there too—and there was good ol' Gabe, passed out at a table in one of those rollin' desk chairs.”

Hanzo sat sipping his whiskey, enthralled in McCree’s stories. They were also so vibrant, the details placed in such a manner that he felt as though he were standing in the lounge, watching Gabe Reyes sleep in his chair—not that he knew what he looked like.

            “That guy…he was like a dad t' me, but _god_ did he ride my ass 'bout shit,” McCree huffed. “So, I thought I’d get back at 'im, y’know? So I went over—“

            “ _No_!” Hanzo knew where this was going.

The cowboy grinned. He looked like a true prankster then. “And I pulled that damn beanie he _always_ wore down over his face—which woke ‘im up—and I grabbed onto the back of t' chair an’ gave it a big push!” The archer barked out a laugh. “He made it from one side of t' room t' the other in a blink, but I didn’t think he’d go as far as he did.”

            “He hit the wall?”

Without missing a beat he grinned. “Yup. I got walloped pretty hard when he finally got up.” McCree and Hanzo both sat in the booth laughing near hysterically. “He gave me a bloody nose and fat lip…Angela had t' patch me up and he wouldn’t speak t' me fer two week on a count of everyone seein’ him get pranked.”

Hanzo leaned forward on his elbows onto the booth. His whiskey had been drained. “What did Morrison have to say?” The man was not too unlike Hanzo; they both held dignity high on their list of importance, and both men were extremely work oriented.

            “I’ve never seen that man laugh so hard before,” McCree admitted with a gentle smile. “I don’t think he’s laughed so hard since.” By then McCree had polished off his whiskey and his fries—along with a portion of Hanzo’s. The younger man glanced up at his date. “Hey, y' ever play pool before?”

            “Pool?” It was not something Hanzo was familiar with. “Do they have a pool here?”

McCree chuckled. “Naw, nothin’ like that. It’s another name for billiards. Y’know, t' tables over there.”

            “Ah. I can’t say I have.”

That seemed to be the opening McCree was waiting for. He slid out of the booth, motioning for Hanzo to follow him. Hanzo followed him across the bar over to the heavy tables with the red fabric tops. In the center of the tables was a wooden triangle outline, filled with balls—some solid in color, others cream colored with a strip of color around them. Each had a number one through fifteen, save for an entirely white wall. McCree pulled two cues off the rack on the wall and handed one to Hanzo.

            “I used to play billiards all t' time when I was young. Made a bit of money at tournaments and in bars playin’.” He held up the all-white ball. “So, watcha gonna do it usin’ that stick, you’re gonna hit this ball into the other balls and try t' get them all in the pockets. We’ll start easy and not have you get them all in numerically.”

Hanzo took the cue apprehensively, his eyes resting on the triangle filled with balls. McCree seemed at ease as he used a blue square to chalk up the end of his stick.

            “Alright, so it’s not hard at all,” he insisted. “You’ll be t' solid side okay? Just try and get t' solid colored ones into the pockets without getting any of mine in okay? And, if y' get t' eight ball—“he held up an all-black ball with the number ‘8’ on it, “if y' get this in the pocket before all the other balls, you automatically lose.”

            “Seems easy enough.”

McCree chuckled. “We’ll see darlin’.” He removed the wooden triangle from the table, leaving the balls where they were. With a smirk he took the white ball to one end of the table and set it down. “I’ll do t' break if y' don’t mind.”

When Hanzo shook his head McCree lined up, mechanical hand outstretched, the cue positioned by his right arm in between two of his left fingers. He closed an eye and took aim, and with some precision knocked the chalked up end into the white ball. It went spiraling across the red table top, smashing with a clatter into the cluster of balls. Each when spinning in a different direction. A thump into one of the baskets indicated he got one of his striped balls in—yellow number 9. Within a couple moments all the balls came to a complete stop.

            “One point for me. Yer up.”

Hanzo walked around the table, eyeing up the solid colored balls and where they rested. He took aim at the purple number 4. With a wing he aimed at the white ball and—

 _Whack_.

Completely missed.

The end of the cue bounced off the table. His ears burned red when he heard McCree chuckle.

            “Here.”

Suddenly he found himself almost pinned by the cowboy against the edge of the table. McCree pressed up behind him, placing his hands over Hanzo’s to steady the cue.

            “Y' don’t have to use a ton of force.” His voice was gruff and low in his ear, enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on Hanzo’s arms. Hanzo was _very_ aware of the hips pressed against his lower back and the head rolling off of Jesse’s torso. With guided hands Hanzo struck at the white ball, hurling it with surprising grace into the purple ball. It collided with several others that all went skidding away, but it did go into the pocket. “See? Like that.” And then Jesse was drawing away, taking his head and smell of smoke and leather with him.

The rest of the game went well enough for Hanzo. Jesse ended up winning by three balls, which he assured was better than other people he’s gone against. They ended up setting up for another game, too lost in their fun to stop. Hanzo’s shots improved each time he took his turn—some of their matches only lasting long enough for one player to get all eight balls in the baskets. Others were more drawn out, and once Hanzo realized he could interfere with McCree’s shots by knocking his balls into Jesse’s, the real challenge started. When Hanzo won his first game he wore a grin that shot Jesse right through the heart with an arrow.

            “Simple geometry,” the archer declared as he got the eight ball in the pocket.

Jesse adjusted his hat. “I’ll be damned. Y' beat me.”

They set up for a final match before going home. Admittedly Hanzo was having far more fun than he thought he would have. Hanamura was just a distant thought in his mind as he lined up to take a shot at the yellow ball labeled 1. He leaned over the table, positioning his stick just right, about to push forward, when there was a laugh from behind. A sudden pressure came across his back end, causing the archer to yelp and stumble. He missed the white ball entirely. Standing behind him were two men, one highly intoxicated, the other less so. Both were skinny and wearing leather jackets with some patches covering the back. A man who—in Hanzo’s honest opinion—looked like a rat was downright leering at him, hand raised.

 _He smacked me. On my ass._ Anger surged through him.

               “Lo siento, no pude evitarlo,” the guy laughed. “Su culo se ve bien se inclinó sobre el estilo.” 

Hanzo stared at him heatedly. He didn’t know Spanish, but he knew from the tone that the man was mocking him. “Do not touch me,” he said, venom behind every word.  

The second man laughed. ¡Tan temible! 

The man who touched him leaned in close; Hanzo had to jerk away so their lips didn’t brush. “No sea tan tenso,” he purred. “Eres muy bonito. Para un tipo. ¿Qué tal si dejo aquí conmigo? Podemos volver a mi lugar para la diversión.” 

Hanzo went to move away but the man was effectively pinning him back into the table. That was, until Jesse all but shoved him away. The man looked stunned. Jesse looked like he was seething. “Oye, él dijo que no lo tocaran, capullo.” The Spanish rolled off his tongue fiercely. It was packed with anger—threatening.  

The man collected himself, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder while his friend took a step back, eyes on McCree. “Vete. ¿No ves que estoy ocupado?” the man sneered at McCree. His friend had stepped back altogether, sensing danger. The first man, the one who had touched Hanzo, leaned in again. “Usted debe deshacerse de su amigo. Yo te puedo mostrar un mejor juego que podemos jugar. Solo tu y yo.” 

When he reached out to touch Hanzo again is when the shit hit the fan. Faster than Hanzo could track, a metal hand reached out, latching onto the man’s wrist. He heard a growl of something in Spanish and then a crunch as the bone in the wrist was broken with a twist. The stranger let out a howl of pain and fell away, clutching at his wrist which was pointed in an unnatural direction. McCree’s nonmetal hand ended up bopping the other man in the eye socket—a punch that would no doubt leave him with an ugly shiner in the morning. The second man sprang into action then, launching at McCree who easily pushed him away—right into a biker who was walking by, who spilled his drink on a girl who was hanging off another man’s shoulder, who immediately brought his guys into the fight. The oldest Shimada found himself backing off, watching as chaos engulfed the bar in an all our brawl. Several men, most wearing biker gang jackets began grabbing at anyone close enough, throwing fists, many not even knowing why they were fighting. Hanzo watched stunned as McCree was swept up in the brawl. A little bit of pride surged through him as he watched his cowboy hold his own against several other men, but that pride quickly turned to fear when he heard an English yell of across the bar of “POLICE!”.

                              “ _Jesse!_ ” Hanzo reached out, yanking his partner off of the rat bastard that smacked him. McCree was still flailing his arms at the dazed man as Hanzo pulled him off. “The police are coming—“ 

No sooner had the words left his mouth did they hear sirens coming up the road.  Panic exploded through the brawlers. Men grabbed their dates, others were scooping their friends off the grounds and away from others, and in a mad surge fled for the doors. Luckily Hanzo was a bit quicker than most and was able to pull McCree towards their bike. McCree had just revved up the motor when then blue and red lights of several police vehicles pulled up with their sirens blaring. Jesse managed to get out through a back entrance, just narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. The dup blew down the highway on their way back to base. Hanzo clung to his back, heart hammering, hands digging into the leather jacket. The air felt good as they sailed down the road, a little cold, a little fast, but Hanzo didn’t mind. McCree didn’t slow down until they pulled up in front of the hanger where he parked his motorcycle.

                “That was interesting,” Hanzo commented a tad dryly.

Their date had been going so well until that guy smacked his ass. But he had to admit…He watched Jesse step of the motorcycle and pull of his helmet; he had managed to dodge every punch during the scuffle, something his opponents could not claim. The surge in Hanzo’s gut just thinking about how McCree had jumped into action on his behalf made him squirm as his boyfriend came to stand tall in front of him. 

_Possessive._

                “Y' didn’t get hurt did y'?” His eyes were a worried mix of gold and brown, not like the furious orbs they had been during the fight at the bar. Hanzo shook his head.

“I’m fine.” A heat rose to his cheeks. “Ah, I suppose I should thank you. For taking care of that guy—“

Jesse suddenly wound an arm around Hanzo’s lower back. Jerking him close to him he growled, “He shouldn’t have touched y' Han.”

Hanzo tipped his head up for a kiss that McCree eagerly gave. “I can’t believe you started a bar fight.”

               “Wouldn’t be t' first time.”  Hanzo barked out a laugh, startling McCree. The cowboy smiled warmly and drew Hanzo in closer. “Wanna go back t' my room for a bit? Watch a movie t' unwind?”

               “Hm, that sounds nice. What movie…?”

McCree perked up. “I have this old one, I think y' would love. It’s kind of cheesy, but it’s about this vampire hunter and a monk who travel t' Romania t' kill a vampire and his brides…”  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations--Again, if you have a correction to my Spanish, feel free to comment and I'll fix it. I know some Spanish, but I'm nowhere near fluent. The translations will come in the order they appear. 
> 
> 1\. I am from Santa Fe. I grew up speaking Spanish, Darling  
> 2\. Sorry I couldn't help it... Your ass looked good bent over like that  
> 3\. So scary  
> 4\. Don't be so uptight...You are very pretty. For a guy. What if you leave here with me? We can go back to my place for fun  
> 5\. Hey, he said not to touch him, asshole  
> 6\. Go away. Can't you see I'm busy?  
> 7\. You should get rid of your friend. I can show you a better game we can play. Just you and me.


	5. Chapter 5

Genji was worried to say the least. “Hanamura? Are they crazy?”

Hanzo sipped the tea offered to him. He had stopped by in the morning before his flight to inform his brother of his leaving, especially due to the locale of the mission. His brother shared his sentiment that sending a Shimada (with a bounty on his head no less) back to Shimada-Castle was an awful idea. But he couldn’t deny that Hanzo was the best person to go. “I am glad at least McCree will be there with you. He is reliable.”

The brothers sat in the mess hall, both with a cup of tea in hand. Genji had his visor up, revealing a patchwork of scars across pale skin, and those amber colored eyes that always seemed so kind and caring even before his work with the Shambali monks. The two had been close growing up—everything from sharing a room for a good many years, to eating together, to training and studying was all done together—and now that Hanzo had joined Overwatch and Genji had forgiven him for nearly killing him, the duo was back to being inseparable. It was also refreshing to each to have someone to speak in Japanese to.

Hanzo snorted. He knew that. Not that he wanted to admit it. “The minute he starts playing country music I’m pushing him off the transport.”

Genji gave a robotic laugh. “That would be unfortunate.” The cyborg ran his hands over the hot ceramic mug, enjoying the heat against his hand sensors. “I have been on many missions with the cowboy. He may seem…foolish, but he is actually very smart and detail oriented when he wants to be.”

            “We are still talking about the cowboy with the noisy spurs and that _ridiculous_ belt buckle correct?” Hanzo said dryly.

            “Say what you will, but the man knows his way around that gun of his.” The cyborg made a sort of humming noise and reached out to take his brother’s hand. “Promise to be careful.”

            “Genji—“

            “No! You must promise me!” His eyes were filled with hurt and worry. “I wish more than anything I could accompany you. But in my state…” His hands tightened around Hanzo’s. Hanzo’s eyes flicked up from where they had been focus on those metal hands. “You must be careful. You know how dangerous our family is, and under new leadership they will be unpredictable. But there might also be those that are from our reign.”

Hanzo nodded mutely. He had considered that a possibility; between the two of them, Genji and he had killed a lot of the elders that had been around a decade prior. And while ten years had passed and surely a new set of leaders had stepped up to control their ancient clan, there was still a chance that some of the old regime remained.

            “Please stay alert,” Genji pleaded. “Stay safe. Update me when you can! I will worry.”

The older brother squeezed Genji’s hands reassuringly—or as reassuringly as he could considering he was nervous himself. “I will keep in contact when I can Genji. You have my word.”

This did little to ease either of their worries, but it was all they had.

 

The die was cast.

**

 

            “Of course he’s going to be worried, he would be a fool not to be.”

Smoke floated up from the balcony McCree shared with the ever beautiful Fareerha. She had just returned from a mission abroad when she ran into McCree going back to her room. The security officer had known the cowboy since Jesse’s first days in Overwatch back when they busted Deadlock; they spent a lot of time together given they were fairly close in age and frankly her mom kept sticking him with babysitting duty, claiming it built character.

Fareerha had ditched her flight armor for jeans and a leather jacket and stood out on the balcony, dark eyes focused on the sky as she tried to calm the chain smoking Jesse McCree. She leaned against the railing as McCree paced, cigarillo hanging from his lips, spurs jingling noisily as he walked.

            “I don’t know what t' do!” McCree puffed on his cigarillo. “I’m going t' be with _him_ for however long it takes fer us to find that damn weapon.”

            “And? Isn’t that what you want?”

            “No! Yes! I don’t know!” he groaned. Fareerha couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough. “He’s so lovely,” he sighed. “He’s smart…fierce…independent—“

            “So are cats.”

            “Yer  _not_ helping.”

The Egyptian shrugged. “You’re the one who’s hung up on it. If he’s so perfect, and if he agreed to date you, why are you worried about this trip with him?”

_Why am I?_

            “I dunno.” He took a drag, letting a thin stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth. “He’s so uncomfortable about it. And I don’t want 'im to be. But I don’t know what t' say t' him t' make him feel better.”

            “Have you ever considered you might not be able to?” She knew from experience that some scars never healed, no matter how many pretty words were tossed your way by the people you loved. Her eyes narrowed, nose scrunched.

Jesse sighed. “This mission is gonna be hell.”

Fareerha stopped him from pacing by grabbing his shoulders. “Sure, the mission isn’t going to be fun,” she snapped, although not unlovingly. “He’s going to be on edge because he’s going back to a place he and his brother have bad memories of. But you know what’s different? _You’ll_ be there. You’ll be there to help him.”

Jesse couldn’t stop the blush that rose to his cheeks. She was right. He was falling quick for Hanzo—especially after their date the night before, where now he couldn’t get his mind off the feeling of his body under his as he taught him how to play billiards. The archer had been absolute perfection right up to and after them fleeing from the police. McCree could feel the chemistry between them, but he also sensed some hesitation on Hanzo’s part, something he wasn’t telling him. Regardless he needed to be there for him. They would get their mission done, they would get the weapon found, and…

He clapped Fareerha on the back. “Thank y' Fareerha. I owe you.”

She chuckled. “No problem Eastwood.”

            “While we’re giving out advice…anything y' want to get off your chest about Ange?”

 

The die was cast.

***     

 

_Hanamura is located in Japan, a well-preserved village mixing ancient traditions and modern technology. It is a suburban area that features temple grounds that although owned by the Shimada are open to the public. Another main feature of the town is Shimada Castle which is large and inaccessible to outsiders, controlled at several points by tall wooden gates and armed guards. Outside the Shimada estate are restaurants, shops, and prime cherry blossom viewings in the spring that are known the world over. Hanamura is a popular tourist destination; most residents are aware of the danger the Shimada pose, but few do anything to dissuade them from their ways while the tourists are oblivious to the yakuza sulking about. Due to mysterious deaths and murders amongst the Shimada clan, the estate was empty for some time but seems to be inhabited by Shimada once again._

Hanzo snorted as he read through the files on the plane. McCree sat beside him on the carrier, sleeping against his shoulder despite the loud roar of the engines. The man looked peaceful asleep and it was about the only time he was ever silent. The archer continued pouring over the files on his tablet while McCree slept; it was just the two of them in the lounge area—the rest of the crew was in the cockpit, making it clear for their affectionate closeness.

On Hanamura it went into the economic and political situation—both of which were heavily tied to the Shimada clan, as well as adding a collection of pictures of predominant people and places.

_The Shimada family was established centuries ago, a clan of assassins whose power grew over the years, enabling them to build a vast criminal empire within Hanamura that profited from lucrative world-wide trade in arms and illegal substances._

_The Archer._

_Real Name: Hanzo Shimada._

_DOB: December 25, 2038_

_Affiliations: Shimada Clan, Japan_

_Occupation: Mercenary, Assassin_

_*SPECIAL*_ _Current Bounty by Shimada Clan: 10, 000,000 credits. Dead or alive._

_Hanzo Shimada, the eldest son of Sojiro and Sakura Shimada, was set to take over the yakuza empire. From a young age, he was trained for that responsibility, displaying a natural aptitude for leadership and possessing an innate understanding of strategy and tactics. He also excelled in more practical areas: he was a prodigy in martial arts, swordplay, and bowman ship. Outside of his schooling he was noted to have lacked friends, choosing to keep to himself or only associating with his younger brother, Genji Shimada. The two appeared close and were commented on by several as being inseparable. Upon the death of his father, the clan elders instructed Hanzo to straighten out his wayward brother, so that he, too, might help rule the Shimada clan. When Genji refused, Hanzo was forced to kill him. Unbeknownst to Hanzo, however, Genji narrowly survived the attempt with the help of Overwatch. The act of killing his brother drove Hanzo into despair and to reject his father’s legacy, ultimately leading him to abandon the clan and all that he had worked to attain. Seeing this as betrayal, the clan leaders declared Hanzo and enemy and assassins were sent on multiple occasions to kill—all attempts being unsuccessful---_

Hanzo shut his file. “Who wrote this?” he growled, tossing it on the empty seat to his right. While they got some parts correct, other parts were lacking specifics. He was truly curious on how they got so much intel on some of their numbers, especially on that bounty; the last time he had check it the numbers had been about half that.

            “Maybe that’s what I get for killing off most of the elders.”

The next file held much more interest to him. A picture of Jesse stared up at him, red serape and all. Hanzo smiled faintly at the picture; the man looked a lot rougher around the edges in what the cowboy probably considered a mugshot at the time.

_The Gunslinger._

_Real Name: Jesse Joel McCree_

_DOB: May 31, 2039_

_Affiliations: Deadlock Gang (former), Overwatch (former), Blackwatch (former), Overwatch (current)_

_Occupation: Bounty Hunter_

_*SPECIAL*Current Bounty: +25,000,000 credits  **Note, Number found to be different at several locations, 25 mil lowest estimate**_

_< Background retracted> <See file #14250>_

_McCree had already made a name for himself as a member of the notorious Deadlock Gang, which trafficked in illicit weapons and military hardware throughout the American Southwest. As the gang was starting to stretch eastward toward the Mississippi, he and his associates were busted in an Overwatch sting operation. <See file #2486256> With his expert marksmanship and resourcefulness, he was given the choice between imprisonment in maximum-security lockup or joining Blackwatch, Overwatch’s covert ops division. <See file #1354000> He chose the latter. McCree excelled under <name retracted> in Blackwatch, but as Overwatch’s influence waned, rogue elements within Blackwatch sought to bring down the organization and turn it to their own ends. Seeming to want no part in the inner struggle, McCree set off alone and went underground. <See file #146321> _

 

Hanzo stared at the skimpy file with a frown. That was all they had on McCree? On Hanamura alone they could write a book, and his life also seemed rather out there as well. Something didn’t set right with the archer that the American resting his head on his shoulder had a more secretive past based on the files than he did coming from a yakuza group. McCree had been in Overwatch once before—why was the file incomplete? And why was so much information in other files and retracted?

The man next to him stirred when the transport hit slight turbulence. Hanzo exited out of the files on his tablet and stowed it away. To say he wasn’t looking forward to returning to Hanamura was an understatement; he was _dreading_ it. He had to keep his left arm wrapped because all it would take was one person to recognize the blue dragons crawling down his arms to bring a clan of assassin’s down on his head. His bow had to remain back at the hotel room since it was a _Shimada heirloom_. They hadn’t even landed and he felt like he was going to be walking on egg shells. Between Genji and himself a good portion of his clan was no more, but there was still obviously enough to keep the bounty for his capture afloat. Shimada castle—the largest building in Hanamura—hadn’t been occupied for at least a year due to Hanzo returning with Genji for some unfinished business, but Overwatch reports indicated Shimada had reoccupied his once-upon-a-time home.

            “Yer going t' get wrinkles if y' keep worrying,” came a sleepy mutter from beside Hanzo. Jesse had woken up, but he didn’t move from resting against the archer.

Hanzo snorted. “I think I am perfectly within my rights to worry.” 

            “I’m just sayin' it’s not doing y' a whole lot of good.”

            “Tell that to my brain.” In truth, Hanzo knew he didn’t truly need to worry. He had done a lot of growing in the last decade, he had strong friends, and he had already escaped once—meaning he could do it again. But as they approached all the bad memories from his twenty some years living within those tall walls came crashing back in.

            “I’ll be with y' this time.”

The words washed over him gently. They were simple—nothing complicated. A small promise. And yet it had done more for him than anything else. His heart which had been beating hard and fast as he worked himself up slowly started to calm.

            “I guess.”

McCree slapped a hand over his own chest. “Ouch darlin’!”

Hanzo chuckled and yanked Jesse’s hat down over his face, just in time to hide their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next--Landing in Japan! 
> 
> For the files Hanzo reads on the transport, a good portion of the text I used their actual character info from the Blizzard website. Thought it was appropriate. 
> 
> Quick note--You may notice I changed how McCree talks. I'm not long attempting to type out the accent. It never sounds right to me and it's kind of annoying to type out cuz it breaks my flow. I might go back when I have time and edit the other chapters for McCree's dialogue, but I doubt it. 
> 
> As always you can find me at sinning_tea on tumblr and twitter~
> 
> Also bless any of you that catch the two jokes I put in McCree's file.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo. This was a long one. I got very annoyed with it for several reasons--mainly because I hate doing transition chapters. But here it is! And as always, you can find me on tumblr, and you all are more than welcome to send me Mchanzo head canons and the like. 
> 
> https://sinningtea.tumblr.com/

Jesse and Hanzo had changed out of their casual clothes shortly before landing and into business suits; they had to assume that the Shimada had eyes all over Hanamura, so from the time they entered their airspace, to the time they left, they had to live and breathe the parts of Aaya and Eric. Even when they stepped off the transport, Jesse took the lead, exiting first and surveying the surroundings like a real body guard before motioning Hanzo out into the open of the hanger. The cowboy took his role seriously. In Blackwatch he had been enlisted as a body guard on a handful of occasions—sometimes as a show of force, other times as a cover with Reyes. But his handler this time was someone he cared deeply about and was falling harder and harder for every passing day. He watched his new boss climb down the steps of the transport with a dignity and grace that stole his breath away. The suit Hanzo wore fit him beautifully, the white dress shirt barely visible under a dark blue tie with thin red stripes and a navy blue blazer. The black shoes on his feet were glossy under the florescent lights of the tarmac and the Rolex on his wrist made him look even more upper class. The man radiated regality and sophistication, something the cowboy had never truly been attracted to. But that didn’t stop his lips from parting slowly and exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

McCree gave a low whistle as his boyfriend approached, sending a small flush up the archer’s barely visible neck. If he had been permitted to wear his hat he would have tipped it. Instead he was in a dark blue vest with a white dress shirt to match Hanzo. “Y' look good in a suit,” he commented.

            “I would hope so. I spent a good portion of my life wearing one.” Despite his cocksure attitude the man’s eyes glittered at the compliment.

 Brief instructions given by Athena into their ear pieces directed them into a fancy looking black car sitting by the tarmac. The duo grabbed their luggage from the transport and headed off to the car; McCree carried the bulk of it and lugged it into the trunk. Overwatch was sparing no expense for their covers in Japan; the car before them was a slick black luxury car, same year model that looked like someone had waxed it to perfection. A driver (employed by Overwatch) greeted them in English as they entered the cream leather interior. Jesse made sure to hold the door open for Hanzo—a show for any wandering eyes. Hanzo briefly paused at the strangeness of it all before sliding in wordlessly, McCree following behind him.

            “Y' wore a lot of western suits?” The driver began pulling out of the building and heading out onto the nearby highway. McCree couldn’t take his eyes off the man next to him. The older of the two looked like a million dollars. “Would have thought y' would wear more…traditional duds.”

Hanzo looked down at his watch—an old habit from long ago. “Yes. I went to a lot of international _business_ meetings with my father,” he said a bit darkly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his father, or he hadn’t enjoyed the business side of running a yakuza clan—in fact he probably liked it too much if he was being honest with himself. There was something about walking around knowing a town was practically under your thumb and that you and your loved ones were untouchable that gave one a god complex. But thinking about those days so long ago felt like a knife in his gut. “I had everything from Armani, to Gucci, Versace…”

Jesse pouted. “Of course t' rich boy had designer clothes.” He had been lucky to afford a pair of jeans at one point. He hadn’t grown up poor per say, but the paychecks his mom brought home never seemed to last. “I had a pretty good knock off once when I was in Blackwatch.”

The archer hummed. “I did wish I brought some of them with me when I left. When we get back we should get your measurements and send a request out to get you a _real_ suit.” If Hanzo was snobby about one thing in life it was surely his clothing. Not that he didn’t appreciate lounging around in a t-shirt like a normal person, but there was something about the quality feel of a hand crafted designer suit that made him blissfully happy.

Night was already falling as they made their way to the hotel they would be staying at, add that on top of the tinted windows and it was impossible to see outside the car. The driver had put up the glass in between the front and back seat, giving them a little privacy to talk. Jesse glanced over at his boyfriend who seemed lost in thought and grumpier than ever. He supposed he couldn’t blame him; this predicament was pretty lame to say the least, having him return to the clan he had run away from just to find a weapon. But if it could bring down all over Overwatch it was no surprise the bosses reacted like they had.

_You need to protect him McCree. The Shimada are a pit of vipers. If they catch him, there won’t be any pieces of him to save._

The cowboy could still hear Morrison’s warning ringing in his head. Genji had mentioned long ago that Hanzo had done much of the torture for the Shimada under his father’s reign. From what the younger brother had to say, Hanzo was able to pull answers out of the most stubborn individuals, using many techniques McCree hadn’t thought of even in his Blackwatch days. The man had been brutal and cruel in the worst of ways, and the elders were always demanding more of him. McCree could only imagine what they would do if they got their hands on the man who used to torture for them.

He soothed a hand down Hanzo’s face, flinching him out of his thoughts. That was something that troubled the cowboy. Hanzo was very jumpy when it came to touches. Sure, everyone was prone to jumping when the touch was unforeseen, but his jerks were more than that; Hanzo acted like he was going to get hit anytime he was surprised with a touch. Jesse wanted to ask him about it, but given the archer’s current state, he decided against it. “Y' holding up okay darlin’?”

Hanzo returned his gaze out the window into the blackness. “I’ll be better once we’re out of Japan.” His fingers traced over the ridges of his watch.

Jesse reached out under the cover of the tinted windows and pulled Hanzo closer by his striped tie. The archer gave a slight gasp at the sudden movement but once he was face to face with Jesse he didn’t pull away. His dark eyes dipped down from Jesse’s brown ones after a moment down to his lips. Hands traced down Jesse’s front, fingers tracing the silk of his tie, then down at the plastic buttons of his suit jacket. Testing.

            “Hm, y' might want to stop doin' that,” McCree hummed, thumbing at Hanzo’s bottom lip which was caught between those pearly whites.

            “Oh? And why’s that, cowboy?” Although his words spoke confidently, posture spoke of hesitation.

A challenge flared up in those eagle sharp eyes that made Jesse shiver ever so slightly. Hanzo was so proud, so full of will, so full of fire. McCree took his chances. He pushed in against him, his flesh hand pulling his tie forward, his other swinging around to cup the back of his head just below his ponytail. Their lips met fairly hard, enough to make Hanzo grunt, but not enough to keep his eyes open. They both shifted closer, Hanzo being almost in his lap, their lips sliding against one another’s, facial hair scraping. Neither knew who made the move to open their mouth first, but suddenly both were fisting each other’s clothes, pulling themselves closer to tangle their tongues together in a frenzy. Hanzo reveled in the feeling; the warmth of Jesse’s body pressed close, the cold of the metal hand on the back of his neck, the prickle of beard on against his, and the hammering of his heart in his own chest. Jesse got lost in the sounds they made, from the sound of their heavy breathing when they would occasionally part, the wet smacks of their tongues and lips meeting, the hammering of his heart in this own chest—and then the slight moan that Hanzo made that had Jesse crowding him.

            “Darlin’…” Jesse pulled off Hanzo’s lip to press open mouthed kisses to his jawline.

Hanzo pulled away slightly. Jesse went to follow but was pushed away gently again. “We shouldn’t,” Hanzo mumbled. “We’re on a mission.”

Jesse huffed and flopped back in his seat. “We’re always gonna to be on a mission.” He tried not to sounds like a spoiled child, but judging by the look on Hanzo’s face he hadn’t succeeded. “When I asked y' to date me, y' knew our line of work—what it would call fer.” The cowboy leaned forward again and with the backs of his fingers gently brushed Hanzo’s bangs from his face. The very thought of the man before him second guessing their relationship hurt McCree more than he wanted to admit. “Are y' havin' second thoughts?”

He wouldn’t go so far as to say it was love at first sight, but Jesse McCree had fallen for the ex-yakuza man far more quickly than he had ever crushed on anyone before. The man was physically beautiful with those silky strands of hair, toned body, detailed tattoo, and piercing eyes. When he first landed on base he was a ghost—or rather an angry phantom. There was an obvious chip on his shoulder that much anyone could see from the way he sulked around base. He avoided everyone, going so far as to eat at times nobody else would, and holed up in either the archery range or in his room. He had come for Genji but as for why he stayed was anyone’s guess. And as for why he had traveled to Gibraltar for Genji in the first place also baffled most of the base especially considering he had almost _killed_ his brother. But Jesse wasn’t one to doubt another’s motives when his own motive for joining Overwatch came down to join or be thrown in prison to rot—or worse.

But more than Hanzo’s physical appearance, Jesse had heard tales from Genji from years ago of his brother’s personality. Despite having destroyed any semblance of normal life for the younger Shimada, Genji always sung praises of his older brother, noting his expertise in battle tactics, his superiority in archery and hand to hand combat, and his love of details. He was loyal to a fault, willing to do anything for those he loved. He was a private man, something Jesse was not. Hanzo kept a low profile, observing others and saying little to give himself away. Cracking into his defenses to even make friends had been damn near impossible—requiring several months of strategically bumping into him in private (the man was skittish when there were multiple people around for whatever reason) to chat him up slowly. Once Jesse cracked the outer shell of the enigma that was Hanzo, he began to realize he wasn’t as tough as people thought. Not that he couldn’t kill a man in an instant, but he was less inclined for that to be his first reaction than most people believed.

What won over Jesse McCree had been his smile.

The man never smiled. Ever. Genji said he used to smile all the time in his youth, but as the burden of responsibility increased, the weight on that smile turned it downwards.

It had been late one night—or rather the wee hours of the morning—when they bumped into each other, each in the kitchen to make drinks (coffee for McCree and tea for Hanzo) to help them relax. McCree was suffering from jet lag after being in Korea for a couple days, and Hanzo, well, he never said truly, but the cowboy had seen the dark circles underneath his eyes and speculated he couldn’t sleep. They made their beverages in relative silence, except for a couple pleasantries on Jesse’s part that were returned with grunts and nods by the archer. The silence however drove Jesse up the wall. He had to break it.

            _‘Hey Hanzo.’_

 _‘What cowman?’_ Slight annoyance, but nothing he wasn’t used to. He had heard from Lena that Jesse was the only one that Hanzo actually seemed not to mind talking to. Jesse took the small victories where he could get them.

            _‘I have a joke fer y'.’_

That was returned with a raised brow.

            _‘Okay, so there’s two muffins in an oven.’_

Hanzo leaned in, a skeptical look on his face. Jesse knew he had him just based on that focused look on his face. He was going to be looking for tricks and traps.

            _‘And one muffin says t' the other muffin “is it gettin' hot in here, or is it just me?” and t' second muffin says, “oh my god! A talking muffin!”.’_

It was slow. A slow upward stretch of the lips that etched it way into Jesse’s heart forever. The archer tried hiding it behind a finger to his lips, but Jesse had already seen the twitch of his lips and the slight crinkle of crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. It was in his mind and it made his breath catch. Even if it was a tiny smile he reveled in the fact that he made _Hanzo Shimada_ smile. Hanzo would deny the smile until his dying breath, but Jesse knew—he had smiled at a lame muffin joke.

And now to be there in the car with him pulling away…

            “No!” Hanzo’s voice had come out loud—probably louder than he had expected. “I want to. To be together I mean.” His face was flushed red at the admission, eyes turned away from Jesse. “But in a car on the way to our hotel…Right before a big mission? Surely there can be a wiser time.”

Jesse slowly eased into a warm smile. “A wiser time? With _me_? Nonsense.” He pressed a warm chaste kiss to Hanzo’s mouth before sitting back in his original seat position. “You’ll find I’m not one fer reasonable decisions darlin’. Tried bein' reasonable. Didn’t quite stick.”

Hanzo smiled at him. He reached over and grabbed the sharp shooter’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

**

The hotel the car pulled up was deep within Shimada territory. It towered up a couple flights to give them a good surveillance point in which they could see over the other buildings in the area without any trouble. The city was bright despite the night, but it seemed dark in comparison to other cities McCree had visited such as King’s Row and Numbani. Buildings seemed a mix of old and new, some being rather shiny looking towers of glass, others resembling the paper and wood structures of old Japan. Paper lanterns hung right next to traffic lights directing floating cars, and billboards made of neon lights hung right outside open air ramen shops. The hotel itself was a blend of east and west, much like the rest of the city. Its façade, although looking like it was made of wood and paper was actually just painted such. A porch ran the bottom level of the hotel, were one could walk and enjoy the garden of bamboo and other native plants that were surrounded by small gravel pieces. A red stretch of carpet stamped with the hotel logo led up from the roadway. Their car stopped there.

            “Here’s the information you’ll need for check in,” the driver said, handing back a couple papers to Hanzo. As Hanzo flipped through them Jesse glanced over only to be disappointed when the entire page was in Japanese. He regretted not learning at least a little bit before their trip—he was at Hanzo’s mercy to translate everything they came across.

The two agents stepped out of the car, Jesse leading the way by opening the door for Hanzo. Jesse pulled the luggage from the trunk, shooing off Hanzo who went to grab for his bag. “I got this _boss._ ” They had to play the part now.

Hanzo stepped away, allowing for Jesse to motion for a bellhop to load all of their bags—of which there several—onto a luggage cart to be set up to their room. Their driver bid them a good evening and a silent good luck before pulling out into the busy traffic in front of the hotel. And just like that their mission had officially begun. There would be no way to get out of Hanamura without a full evac.

Jesse glanced around at their surroundings, genuinely checking for threats before nodding at Hanzo. “Looks like we’re clear Aaya-san.” There were many people walking this way and that, valets driving around in customer cars, people standing around on phone calls, but nothing that seemed out of place for a busy foreign owned hotel.

He didn’t miss the small sparkle in Hanzo’s eye at the tone. “After you, _Eric._ ” He practically purred out the words.

The name sounded strange on Hanzo’s lips. Jesse tried to shake the slight bit of jealousy that fell over him at another man’s name dripping from his boyfriend’s lips like that. He meant _him_ for god’s sake.

_No use getting jealous over myself._

He left check in to Hanzo given the fact it was all in Japanese. Jesse merely stood back, about a foot behind Hanzo, allowing his eyes to rake over every inch of the lobby. It was packed with people—mainly westerners—mostly in business attire. The place wreaked of money, everything from the highly polished marble floors and columns, to the crystal chandeliers hanging above, to the gold trim on every surface.

It only took a couple minutes to get checked in and receive their door card. Tower B, room 76 was to be their home for the mission. The duo road the elevator up to the seventh floor and made their way to the room. Jesse entered first by scanning the door key, revealing the most beautiful hotel he had ever stayed at. The room was a large space. There were two queen sized beds up against the left wall facing the right, each covered in fluffy looking black comforters and piled high with equally comfortable looking pillows. Beside each bed was a nightstand made of glass supporting gray stone looking lamps that cast a calm gold glow through the room. On the far wall from the doorway was a wall of windows. A glass door led out onto the balcony; Hanzo made a comment that they would set up on it so they could have a view of the gates of the estate. On the right hand wall had a large TV display mounted on it, and underneath sat a couple dressers to store clothes in, as well as a mini fridge that sat off to the side. A mirror was mounted to the wall directly in front of the beds, making the room seem even larger than it was. The walls were painted a matte black with flor de les faintly visible in a gray color, offset by deep red carpet underfoot. The bathroom was to the left of the doorway. It was large and decorated with dark marbles, a large bath was its focal point along with a shower and bright vanity. Jesse was rather taken aback by the western feeling of their room; he had been expecting a more traditional Japanese feeling to the room, but he had to take into consideration this was an Overwatch owned building—a group that had blossomed in the west.

All of their bags were set at the foot of one of the bed. The two of them took up the task of unpacking. Most of the bags contained tech, laptops, cameras, and weapons. Jesse was a little concerned at the amount of ammo he saw Hanzo unpacking, as well as the sniper rifle he was assembling with nimble hand movements. Hanzo’s storm bow was in a special case apart from the others, to remain in the room until needed—if needed at all. Once everything was assembled Jesse flopped down on the bed closest to the windows. The bed gave a slight groan at the weight but god was in comfortable. He closed his eyes briefly. He was used to jet lag, but the flight from the western coast of Europe all the way to Japan had been quiet a long one. He laid there with his arms tucked behind his head, breathing in and out, enjoying the quiet of their private room. Suddenly there was a weight on him.

            “Oof!”

His eyes flew open to see Hanzo straddling his hips. The blush was immediate, combusting across his face, the tips of his ears, and his neck. The archer had a leg over each of his hips, a hand on either side of his face, and was staring into his eyes with dark eyes.

            “Um,” Jesse found himself gulping under that gaze. “Howdy.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed as his lip quirked upwards. “I do believe I said there was a better time for us to have a moment, no?” His voice was soft, alluring, and seductive.

Jesse reached up and placed his large hands on Hanzo’s narrow hips. “That you did,” he purred back. “What did y' have in mind, sweetheart?”

The man on top of him leaned down, ghosting his lips across Jesse’s. “Just continuing where we left off.” A hand came up to trace Jesse’s lips. “Until the jet lag catches up of course.”

Jesse let out a rumble of a laugh. Hanzo was notorious around base for being a rather prickly fellow. It was good to hear him sounding like a normal person for once. “Sounds like a plan.”

The partners kissed for what seemed like forever, hands roaming and groping while lips pressed against one another, occasionally pulling away to for air. Eventually though it had to stop, once Jesse started dozing mid kiss, earning himself a snort from Hanzo who was already untangling himself from Jesse’s grasp. They both changed out of their suits and into pajamas. Jesse liked to go shirtless with boxers, but for Hanzo’s sake he put on a pair of pj shorts. Hanzo however seemed more comfortable in pj red pj bottoms with a black v neck shirt that clung sinfully to those large pecs. Jesse took up in the bed he had been previously laying on, and had expected Hanzo to go into the other, but was surprised—not for the first time that night—when Hanzo came over to his bed. His normally hawkish eyes seemed hesitant.

            “Can I—“

            “Yes.” Jesse was already throwing back the covers, motioning for Hanzo to join him.

Hanzo crawled under the sheets, much to Jesse’s glee, and spooned up against him. Jesse leaned over to turn off the lights.

            “G’nite Hanzo.”

But there was no reply. The archer was pressed up against Jesse’s chest, eyes closed, breathing light and even, already fast asleep. Jesse chuckled and threw an arm over his boyfriend. Sleep had never hit him so quickly.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! The holidays have been killer at work! I hope everyone had a happy and safe holiday and are ready for 2017! 
> 
> I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, but the italic sentences later on are meant to be spoken in Japanese, and the random ones that aren't are meant to be in English--For McCree's benefit mainly. 
> 
> And as always, kudos and reviews are welcomed! You can also follow me at https://sinningtea.tumblr.com/

The skies over Hanamura never failed to impress Hanzo. He had lived in that place for over two decades, and yet every sunrise brought a new awe to him.

He had awoken before his partner and even before the first rays of sun light were set to peak over the horizon. His location had startled him at first—after all, he hadn’t shared a bed with anyone in quite some time, and the strange hotel room just added to his jolt in waking. Once he had gotten himself composed, the archer observed Jesse in silence. He could admit to himself this wasn’t the first time he had watched Jesse when the cowboy was unaware, they did live on base together and Jesse was a hulk of noise, muscle, and dare he say good looks. But this was different. Despite dating for several months, neither had shared a bed together, mainly at the request of the archer. Watching the gunslinger in the quiet of the morning was vastly more tender than the once Shimada heir had allowed himself in the past. Jesse was quiet when he slept—the only noise coming from him breathing out his slightly opened mouth. His brown tresses poked out all over the places without his hat to mash them down, and paired with a lack of shirt and those low slung PJ bottoms, he looked like the biggest temptation Hanzo had ever seen in his life. The archer traced a finger down Jesse’s neck and over his hairy chest before drawing away.

No, it was too familiar. Not with Jesse, but with another.

Before anything else Hanzo grabbed his phone off the nightstand. A couple messages from Genji consisting of emoji’s, a message from Winston—they needed to have a call that night to discuss mission progress. And then a reminder. ‘Jesse’s Birthday Tomorrow’. Hanzo glanced at the man lying next to him. He hadn’t had time to buy the man anything. But the day was not over, and there was plenty of opportunity in Hanamura.

It took a bit of effort but Hanzo pulled himself from the bed and headed out onto the balcony, swiping his box of cigarettes and his lighter from the table as he went. He leaned up against the railing and lit up. The sky overhead was changing; the black and blue colors of the night were changing over to lavenders and pinks as the sun slowly began poking up over the horizon. The light pink color of the cherry blossom burned almost orange as the first rays of the sun fell over the still sleeping Hanamura.

Hanzo exhaled a drag he held too long.

_What is this feeling?_

Watching the sun climb slowly but surely over the lowest buildings on its way up filled him with a sense of old; perhaps he had watched too many sunrises over Hanamura. He certainly did feel nostalgic surrounded by all these familiar buildings—his old home laying within view.

Perhaps it was the decade on the run that was making him feel this way. After being ordered to kill his brother he didn’t stay to linger; the blood on the tapestry in their shrine had ruined him every time he walked by, and he could still see the dark red blood puddling on the hardwood floor where his body had dropped if he closed his eyes for too long. Shimada castle had held nothing for him after that day. So he ran. He had left everything behind but a set of clothes and storm bow and ran to the far ends of Japan, leaving all contacts and holds to his power. There was always that gnawing feeling at his ankle— _Did you forget something? Who was that at the corner? Were you always so skinny? They’re going to find you._ He had cut his hair, changed his name, worked little jobs to pay for a trip to Korea to lay low. But the odd jobs didn’t pay enough and soon Hanzo found himself lapsing back into the life of violence that he had been accustom to. A mercenary. An assassin. He trusted no one, not even the hand that fed. Hanzo lived a solitary life. He couldn’t remember exactly when he had returned to Japan to honor his brother—had it been the first anniversary? The second? Regardless of when, his eventual run-in with Genji had been his first realization that he hadn’t had positive contact with anyone in years. It had been a decade of meeting with bosses in shady, smoke filled back rooms in bars and hotels, picking up instructions from old mailboxes, feeling the lips of a prostitute too close to his ear as she revealed the master’s plan. Perhaps positive hadn’t wasn’t the _best_ word to describe the clash that the Shimada brothers had during their meeting in Hanamura, but for both it was life changing and brought a peace—albeit a frail one--between them. Hanzo had been hesitant to follow Genji, and Genji had been hesitant to allow himself to be followed. But in the end when Genji waited on the tarmac the day after their encounter, his flight threatening to leave without him, and he wasn’t surprised when he saw the silhouette of his brother come into view.

Regardless of how Genji felt towards him, the rest of the team was hesitant to even approach him; as if he would attack at the slightest mix up of words.

_“Well aren’t you a lone wolf?”_

Those had been the first words Jesse McCree had ever said to him, having found him tucked away on a cliff side shortly after following Genji to Europe, and into Overwatch’s eager embrace. He hadn’t been wrong—far from it. Sitting on the carrier to Overwatch HQ in Gibraltar, he had been unsure of what to say to Genji or any of the crew for the matter. Genji had been in his life for twenty some odd years before “the incident”, as everyone so cautiously called it, and Hanzo couldn’t figure out a damn thing to say to him. This had spread between him and all the other members of Overwatch. He talked to nobody—save for Genji after much mulling over what to say, and the “yes” “no” answers when Commander Morrison grilled him. The only one who seemed almost offended he wouldn’t talk had been Jesse—which was why he had been sought out on the cliffs. 

But he had seen plenty of sun rises in Japan and around the world. What made this one so different? There was an underlying feeling, a negative swell of anxiety, at the bottom of his chest at the familiarity of it. It only took a glance at the dragon emblazoned gates of Shimada castle at the end of the street to know why it felt so wrong. Hanzo glanced back at Jesse through the window—still slumbering and clinging to the pillow beneath his head. How many times had Hanzo done this very thing; to be wake tangled in an embrace only to go out for smokes and to watch the sun and be filled with the feeling of wonder and dread?

_I haven’t thought about him in so long._

There was truth in his thought, but not completely. Of course he had thought about _him_ —every time he kissed Jesse, every time Jesse asked to take them further. Hanzo puffed his cigarette harder. He wouldn’t admit he was still hung up on a guy from a decade before; he certainly knew the other man wasn’t thinking about him at all, considering what had transpired between them. The archer felt guilty. Jesse was a different man—a better man. His partner didn’t deserve to be strung along like this.

_It will be different. Everything will be alright._

_Won’t it?_

Somehow he wasn’t sure. He enjoyed the time he spent with the cowboy, every movie, every kiss, every mission spent together.

            “Then why do I feel this way?” Hanzo asked the morning quietly. Why did he have such a gloomy feeling in his heart? A cool blue glow caught his attention. His tattoo was glowing a faintly despite being half concealed by a sleeve. He could feel the dragons stirring inside him, perhaps to calm him, perhaps to warn him. They had been silent after he had almost killed Genji, and he had half expected he had lost their powers entirely, but during his fight with his robotic brother when he had called upon them they had roared to life. Since then they had stirred on occasion, usually excited during shootouts with Talon or grumbles when Jesse pressed too close.

A yawn from back in the room startled jerked him from his thoughts. Jesse was rising in the bed, arms stretched above his head, no doubt stretching out all the kinks and aches from sleeping strange. Hanzo saw the cowboy slowly come to the realization of where he was and that he was alone, or in the opposite order. It would be an overstatement to say Hanzo was touched at the oddly hurt look on Jesse’s face when he touched the cool side of the bed that Hanzo had occupied. The archer smiled to himself. He snuffed out the cigarette and returned to the room. One knee after another he climbed back onto the bed.

            “I’m here,” he said softly.

The cowboy’s face slowly lit up at Hanzo approached. Jesse gathered him up in his embrace and fell back against the pillows. “It wasn’t a dream…”

The comment made Hanzo’s chest clench. He soothed a hand down his partner’s bearded face. _So honest._ It had been their first time sleeping in the same bed together; even on other missions they had different sleeping arrangements since Hanzo didn’t want them to be _too_ open in their relations. “No…It wasn’t.”

Jesse’s voice was still thick and gritty from sleep as he held Hanzo close, murmuring in his ear. “I’ve been wanting this for a while now.” He jostled his arms slightly. “ _This._ To be able to wake and have your gorgeous face here.”

Hanzo flushed red and buried his face in Jesse’s bare chest. He smelled like smoke and the spice of his deodorant. Despite his lack of shirt his skin was pleasantly warm—always warm like he was made of sunshine. “You and your silver tongue.” He stroked the flesh bicep curled close to him. “We have a big day today.”

            “Got to go into the dragon’s den huh?”

The comment went ignored. “We have a meeting with one of the Shimada-gumi representatives in the afternoon.” As he spoke he traced pointless shapes into the flesh of Jesse’s shoulder. “We will most likely have to haggle for more information. You need to mind your tongue—not that they will talk much, if at all, to the body guard.”

            “A shame, you know, since I have a silver tongue and all.” Jesse clicked his tongue smugly.

Hanzo leaned up and kissed him on the lips. Jesse’s eyes fluttered shut softly as he kissed back. No passion. No heat. No need. A simple kiss of assurance. Broken by the grumble of Jesse’s stomach. They pulled away from each other and stared into the other’s eyes. Hanzo was the first to break, a snort tumbling from his lips, triggering a landslide of chuckles from the cowboy.

            “The hotel has a continental buffet,” Hanzo commented. He moved off Jesse, flinging his legs over the side of the bed and easing himself to standing. “We should take advantage of it.”

Jesse followed suit. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

 

Jesse wasn’t sure what was prettier, the town surrounded by the fullest pink cherry blossom trees he had ever seen, or his boyfriend’s face as he gazed around at the Shimada gardens they were walking through. The man’s dark eyes were practically sparkling as they made their way around the stone path that coiled like a snake around the shrine. It had come as a bit of a surprise to the American when Hanzo so boldly walked through the giant open arch ways leading into the Shimada shrine and garden area. A gravel area lay immediately in front of them with large rocks jutting up, and to their right was a building one could walk through to get to a higher viewing area. Off to the left from the arches however were the thickest parts of the gardens overlooking a large drop off followed by a breath taking view of Hanamura.

            “It is for the public as much as private,” Hanzo assured him. The man was clad in a silver yukata with dark blue hatches decorating the bottom. Despite the long sleeves they had bandaged up his tattoo, and his hair had been left long so he didn’t appear as he did every time he broke into this very shrine. Jesse in contrast was wearing a black suit, Peacekeeper hanging from his belt, BAMF belt and cowboy hat left in the hotel room. Upon entering under the archway, Hanzo guided them to the left. It only took a minor glance around for Jesse to spot guard patrols both in on the ground and tucked up on the slated roofs. “Unlike in America and many western nations where everything is kept private, to show wealth and prestige here is to allow the public in.”

Jesse trailed slightly behind, eyes scanning their surroundings. Men, women, kids, and even omnics all seemed to be going through strolls as well. “Like, people can just walk in? That seems weird.” In the center of the space was an open pavilion of sorts, in which a large metal bell with two dragons on it hung. A lot of people were gathered around there.

            “They can only enter certain areas of course. A normal person could not go into the inner sanctum for instance. But they are allowed to walk the gardens…to see the outside beauty of the estate. It is as much of a show of wealth and beauty as power.” Hanzo almost seemed proud as he explained, giving Jesse the feeling he had to have explained this before, when the property and all its contents had belonged to him. “It shows that we--- _they,_ do not need to hide behind walls. ‘If trouble wants to walk in, let it. We are ready’.”

 _They do look ready_ , Jesse noted sourly. He could pick out the guards because, like him, they all were wearing black western style suits with guns either in hand, at the hip, or both. The guards seemed to have set routes they traveled, some up on balconies overlooking the gardens, some strolling along the garden path itself. Mixed in with the human guards were also omnics that resembled metal demons with short horns jutting from their face plates. _It’s going to be a pain in the ass to look anywhere without drawing attention._

The garden itself was sprawling and beautiful. Curtains of bamboo fenced in blood red clusters of tsubaki, blips of purple sumire and sakurasou. Momo trees bloomed alongside sakura blossoms, drawing groups of people in for photos. A large open shrine sat at the center of the garden, a small patch of gravel and large rocks sitting directly in front of it, a large bell at its center. To approach without stepping on the rocks meant taking a roundabout way through the flower path. Which was what Hanzo seemed content in doing. Jesse watched him as they walked; Hanzo kept his head up, shoulders broad, back straight, a true regal looking character. Even if his eyes held a gentle sort of loneliness to them.

They stopped a little bit away from the rest of the people who were wandering. Hanzo sat on a bench close to the ledge underneath a lone cherry tree, while Jesse stood off to the side and slightly behind him. Despite not _actually_ being his bodyguard, the American found himself going through the movements. Eyes scanned every movement from the rustle of the branches in the breeze to the nearby rough play of children with a ball. Hanzo seemed content just to sit and look out at the near yet distant city, letting the wind take his hair.

            “Aaya—“

            “I used to play here a lot,” he said suddenly, jolting Jesse a bit. Hanzo’s tone was quiet, distant. “With my brother.” A chuckle. “I lost count at the number of toys we lost over the side here. Sometimes we would play chicken with the edge.”

Jesse kept silent. It was hard to imagine to say the least. A young Hanzo, probably only waist high, running around, grinning like a fool with an even younger _human_ Genji…A strange picture indeed. Genji had been saved by Overwatch after the damage his brother had inflicted upon him, so Jesse had never met him as a full human; he could only imagine what he must have looked like as a boy. Did he look like Hanzo? A brooding face with regal features? Or was he soft and baby faced—an exact opposite of how the elder Shimada appeared now? Genji had said his brother had once smiled all the time, and that he had beautiful dark eyes that could pierce to a man’s core. _That much hasn’t changed._

Hanzo had a fond smile on his face. “We would take turns getting as close to the edge as we could without falling. I almost fell once.” His smile suddenly dropped. “I was lucky he was there to grab me.”

A shutter went down Jesse’s spine.

Just as Hanzo was about to say something more, he gave a start, whirling around to his other side, eyes wide. There was a slight gasp from Hanzo, and that was all it took for Jesse’s fingers to be reaching instinctively for his gun to aim them at the man that was standing on Hanzo’s right. The man wasn’t overly tall—only an inch or two taller than Hanzo, yet shorter than Jesse, and he wasn’t too thickly built either. He wore a black suit with a red dress shirt and black tie. It was clear from his straight yet relaxed demeanor that he was comfortable in his clothes, probably used to the style. With a narrow face with slightly gaunt cheeks he reminded Jesse immediately of a rat; even when he went to smile, he appeared underhanded and rodent like. His hair was an odd dyed blonde that almost looked yellow, swept off his face and into a low ponytail. Several piercings poked out of both ears and one clung to his bottom lip.

            “ _You must be Aaya-San_ ,” he said to Hanzo in Japanese, his face brought up in a tight smile. Despite his face, there was nothing mouse like about his voice. It was rather deep, a low purr.

Hanzo looked completely thrown off and uneasy, not at all like how Jesse expected him to be. Jesse’s metal fingers were one movement away from drawing his gun in order to protect him.

The man seemed to sense the unease. “ _I’m sorry if I startled you. My name is Yoshikaze. But you may call me Yoshi.”_

 _Hanzo was right. I’m not going to do much talking_ , Jesse noted sourly as the man continued to talk in Japanese.

Hanzo seemed to regain a little composure. “ _I was caught up in the scenery is all,”_ he lied. _“It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance Yoshi-san. Are you the…?”_

 _“The Shimada representative yes.”_ The smile dropped a little as he noted Jesse. The once over came as a glance from head to toe with hardly a pause except for at the hand by the gun hanging from his hip. If they had been in a bar that look would have gotten Jesse a bit more ruffled and offended. But seeing as how they weren’t—and they were in an area with high security--he held his tongue. “A body guard?”

Jesse went to tip his hat out of habit but remembered it was back at the hotel. He saved himself by running a hand through his ponytail. “Howdy.”

Yoshi’s lip quirked up but not in a smile, but rather slight disgust. _“An American?”_

            “He is trustworthy and loyal. I can ask for nothing more.” Hanzo spoke it in English, a surprising act, outing Yoshi to Jesse. The significance wasn’t lost on Jesse; he was establishing them as a team, rather as a dog and his master.

The smile returned, albeit slightly strained. _“Of course. One cannot be too careful these days, especially in businesses such as ours.”_ He made a gesture for Hanzo to walk with him. _“Be at ease. Walk with me Aaya-San. I shall give you a tour of the gardens.”_    

Hanzo nodded and got to his feet to follow, only allowing for a small glance back at Jesse, a silent bid to keep close. Jesse watched as Hanzo took a few quicker steps to keep up with Yoshi before falling in line, while the cowboy himself had to trail behind. Something about the whole situation made Jesse’s chest bubble with a slow simmering anger. Was it the guy’s face? His tone? The fact Jesse had no idea what they were talking about? Or was it something more possessive? Yoshi pointed out buildings in the distance as they walked as well as some flowers as they rounded up the path towards the shrine with the bell. As if people could sense the importance of the trio they moved out of the way for them, even the guards kept at a distance.

            _“I understand that your business has interests in partnering with the Shimada,”_ Yoshi said nonchalantly as rounded the bell to go stand on the balcony behind the building. A red railing was all that would keep someone from toppling over the edge of the precipice to their demise. Their host leaned against the wood without fear while Hanzo kept a step back and out of arm’s reach—a smart tactical choice Jesse noted.

            _“It would benefit both parties I do believe. Since my father’s death I have had…troubles, with punks and scavengers trying to pick apart my company. If I had some…bigger friends, I’m sure my troubles would vanish,”_ Hanzo explained. He still wasn’t at ease, but he was better off than before. It was apparent that Hanzo had experience in these sorts of talks, although Jesse knew it wasn’t for the reasons that Yoshi probably thought. It was slightly thrilling to know that the biggest Shimada—the one with direct inheritance to this whole estate—stood right in front of the man and he had no idea. A representative indeed. _“And I’m sure the Shimada could always use the finest weapons on the market…_ ”

Yoshi chuckled. “Friends are quite important, I must agree. It says a lot about someone…who they keep around and who they consider foe. _But finest weapons you say? We have one within these very walls that could bring down an armada._ ”

            “ _An armada? That I would like to see.”_

 _“It is not my place to show such a crown jewel as that,”_ Yoshi admitted, a coy smile playing his pierced lip. Jesse stood off to the side, eyes darting between the two as they spoke. _“I have heard that your father made good weapons. And the yakuza is never short of want for guns and the like. Nor do we lack for any want of friends and alliances. You’ll excuse me I’m sure if I admit to looking into your credentials...”_

 _“As well as I’m sure the Shimada will tolerate the fact I looked into theirs,”_ Hanzo replied smoothly. _“The rumors of your ninja clan are legendary even out in Tokyo. But I had to assure myself I was allying with the right clan. I had considered others…”_

 _“You would be a fool not to.”_ Yoshi turned to look at Hanzo more closely. Jesse watched Hanzo draw in a breath and stand just a little straighter in an attempt to look more intimidating. The gunslinger’s fingers twitched at his side. _“But I can tell you are no fool. You are smart, cautious…and beautiful.”_

Whatever the last word had been brought a slow blush creeping across Hanzo’s face. Jesse watched as the red burned a trail from the barely showing tips of his ears, down his cheek bones, and down into the neatly folded opening of his yukata. Jealous immediately combusted within the cowboy. He hated that he couldn’t understand what was being said, and other than the bone Hanzo had tossed him in the beginning, Hanzo hadn’t spoken to him.

Hanzo coughed lightly into his fist, turning his eyes away. “ _Flattery will not sweeten our deal, Yoshi-San.”_

 _“No? Good thing that was not my intention.”_ His tone had taken a sweet turn that made Jesse grit his teeth behind closed lips. _“I have no doubt the elders will accept your proposal. You merely have to meet with them when they are available tomorrow.”_

Hanzo blinked dumbly. _“I was under the impression I would be meeting with them today.”_

_“They had some business to attend to—we have a delivery today that needs their attention. They sent me on their behalf to let you know and to scope you out.”_

Yoshi took a step forward, slowly enough for it to be obvious he knew Jesse was a breath away from his gun, and raised a gentle hand to Hanzo’s face. The once Shimada heir stood frozen, eyes wide and snapping to the man in front of him as the back of Yoshi’s knuckles soothed across his cheek, teasing the blush that was already there. Jesse sucked in a breath, then held it when he saw the blush deepen and his boyfriend’s lips part ever so slightly.

_What the hell Hanzo?_

            _“Today was a preliminary meeting,”_ Yoshi said, still touching Hanzo’s face. _“I will ensure to my elders that you seem on the up and up, and they will grant you an audience tomorrow at 3 o’ clock sharp.”_

_“Thank you Yoshi-san—“_

The kiss was unexpected. A gentle tip forward, a guiding of Hanzo’s chin with a free hand, was all it took was to connect their lips. Jesse was drawing Peacekeeper, but by then Yoshi was pulling back and Hanzo was clamping a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide, blush and impossible dark red.

Yoshi gave a light laugh as Hanzo expression. Jesse was ignored by the yakuza henchman entirely, and that made him _seethe_.

            “Get away from Aaya-San,” he growled out.

Yoshi held up his hands in front of him playfully when he noted Peacekeeper pointed in his direction. _“Call off your dog please.”_

 _“Eric!”_ Hanzo hissed. “Put the gun away.”

Jesse lowered his gun slowly. “But he—“

            _“_ Was giving a handsome man a well-deserved kiss _,”_ Yoshi said with a triumphant smirk. _“_ You should consider tightening your leash on him, Aaya-San.”

Defeated. Jesse’s shoulders slumped slightly as he watched Hanzo turn his attention back to Yoshi. Was his gaze lingering on his lips? The thought felt like a punch to the gut.

            _“Thank you for the tour. We will return tomorrow for the meeting with the elders.”_ Hanzo bowed to Yoshi who returned it easily.

            _“I eagerly await your return. Oh, and do consider leaving the dog at home.”_

* * *

 

Jesse had to almost jog to keep up with Hanzo as they left. After a final goodbye to Yoshi, Hanzo had made a beeline for the exit, not bothering to follow the path to wind around the garden. The cowboy trailed hopelessly behind. It was like Hanzo was literally running from something despite being in sandals and having to keep his robes clothes. The quick pace and silence lasted until they were almost to their hotel when Jesse finally had enough. He grabbed Hanzo’s hand and jerked him into a nearby alley. A hand pushed into his shoulder, jamming Hanzo against the wall of the building.

            “What the hell was that?” Jesse asked. His tone was torn between angry, confused, and sad---his accent becoming more pronounced.

Hanzo refused to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing—“

            “Don’t lie to me!”

The archer shoved at him. “Do not start with me!”

Jesse spluttered. “ _Start_ with you? I’m supposed to be your _partner_! How can I be your partner if you won’t let me in? It’s my job to protect you!”

            “Your job is to find the weapon,” Hanzo hissed. He wasn’t caving like Jesse thought he would; he was being defensive and starting to go on the assault. “I am _not_ your mission! I am your cover—“

The cowboy slammed his metal fist against the brick wall, silencing the shorter man. “DON’T. You know you’re way more than my cover! You looked like you saw a damn ghost when he fucking showed up.”

Narrow eyes dug into Jesse’s. Despite his beautiful clothes and face, he looked absolutely lethal under the dying light of the sun, tucked away in the alley. Almost a full head shorter than the American, yet looked like he was going in for a kill. “It. Is. None. Of. Your. Concern!”

            “It is my fucking concern!” Jesse yelled back. Frankly he was surprised nobody had noticed them arguing in the alley. Maybe with all the yakuza around, arguing men in shady alleys were the norm. “I can’t do my job if you’re going to be tripping over yourself every time you see a Shimada.”

            “Don’t you _dare_ belittle my abilities,” Hanzo hissed. His tattoo was glowing under his bandages. “I can take care of myself!”

            “It’s not your job to take care of yourself! It’s mine!” What else could he say? He was so desperate. He wanted everything to be okay, for Hanzo to be safe. “Do we have to pull out babe?” he asked quietly.

            “No, we are here on a mission and we are going to complete it,” Hanzo snarled. He pushed a finger against Jesse’s chest. “Maybe you should keep _your_ head in the game and stop letting your emotions get the better of you!”

Jesse was at the end of his patience. He loved his boyfriend. He really did, but…The taller of the two towered over Hanzo, leaning inward, resting his arm against the wall behind Hanzo’s head. His voice dropped deadly low. _Two could play at this game._ “I just had to watch that rat kiss my boyfriend! I had to stand there like a fucking _idiot_ while he probably peppered you with all those little compliments I couldn’t understand. I had to watch while you fucking turned beat red! How do you think that makes me feel Han? Tell me, did you like when he—“

Hanzo shoved his partner back violently, enough to hit the wall behind him, the air whooshing out his mouth.

            “He used to fuck me okay?” Hanzo yelled. His face was a thundercloud of anger while his eyes were glassy with tears. Hands were balled as his side ready to swing at any moment.

The words slowly sank in. Jesse opened and closed his mouth like a fish as he looked for something to say. His boyfriend let the few angry tears fall before wiping his eyes. “He…”

            “Yoshi was my first and only love,” Hanzo admitted bitterly. He accompanied the statement with a spit to the concrete at their feet. “He used to be my bed mate and my bodyguard until it all fell apart.”

Another shove and Hanzo was storming out of the alleyway. Jesse stood there in a daze watching his back. A bodyguard turned boyfriend? A fuck buddy? “Han—“

            “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped. His posture was stressed, pulled taunt. “I’m going back to the room for recon.”

            “Hanz—“

But he was gone, already fleeing down the sidewalk at a brisk place. Jesse followed behind, not even bothering to keep up considering it didn’t look like Hanzo wanted him anywhere close. His heart was in pieces. The yelling had been unintentional—just a climax of anger and frustration. He hadn’t expected the hurt and rage in Hanzo’s eyes. No wonder he had acted like Yoshi was a ghost—he was.

Hanzo didn’t bother to keep the elevator open for Jesse when they got to the hotel, in fact, in made sure to close it as Jesse approached, forcing him to catch the next one up. Jesse rode the next elevator car up in silence, brooding over the information given to him. He hadn’t expected the mission to go easily but _this_ was unforeseen. And they were supposed to check in with Winston in the evening.

When he reached the room he found the door unlocked. Hanzo wasn’t in the room when he walked in. Everything was left dark, but he could see the archer out on the balcony, a twist of smoke coming off a cigarette he had shoved in his mouth. His dark brows were knitted together angrily as he puffed, his fingers snapping together a tripod for sniper rifle he had laying out on a chair. Jesse sighed. He supposed they were going out to dinner then. The chair became Hanzo’s perch as he set up the sniper rifle to gaze down the street towards the Shimada estate. Once he shed his suit jacket and shoes, Jesse lingered around the open doorway to the balcony, his eyes watching his boyfriend with worry.

            “Baby I’m sorry…I didn’t—“

            “Go inside. I do not wish to talk right now.” ‘To you’ hung heavily between them.

            “But Han—“

            “GO!”

Jesse flinched at the bite in the tone, and even more at the bright blue shining through his bandages. There was no use in upsetting him further. “If you change your mind I’ll be inside. I’ll order us some food, okay? Make sure you come in and eat.”

His lover didn’t reply. Instead he looked out the scope of the rifle, adjusting the position so he could see the gates. Jesse gave a sigh and retreated inside, leaving his boyfriend out on the balcony to chain-smoke the night away. The call to Winston was held by Jesse alone, who left out the background of Yoshi. Hanzo remained out on the balcony even as Jesse was getting ready for bed. The bed was cold and lonely when Jesse finally crawled in. He could still see Hanzo’s silhouette in the chair, hunched over to gaze through the scope, a new cigarette dangling from his mouth. Jesse fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by bad feelings and nightmares of days he thought he had forgotten.  

 

 

 

 

  

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I wrote this in a jiffy for the couple of you that were upset they were fighting in the last chapter. In this one Hanzo comes clean about the part of his past about Yoshi. There will be more on him later, but just as a heads up there is some mentions of past abuse in here, in case any of you aren't comfortable reading it. The abuse itself is not written out explicitly, but it is eluded to. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also as a PSA--don't smoke as much as Hanzo did during the night! It's not good for your health!

Jesse only on and off he slept that night, and when he finally did sleep he was haunted by dreams—nightmares really—of some of the more horrible missions he had done during his time in Blackwatch with Reyes. Their small band of Overwatch agents did everything from kidnapping to torture in order to further Overwatch’s means. Jesse had left a life as a gang member with the Deadlock Gang in Santa Fe for what? Another chance at being a glorified gangster?

_At least I’m making a difference now. Right?_

When he finally woke he immediately sat up. They were still in Hanamura…and with a hand flopping down on the other side of the bed he determined that Hanzo had never joined him.

The cowboy bit his lip and cast a glance out the window to the balcony. Hanzo was slumped down in the chair with his sniper rifle laying across his lap, feet propped up on another chair. Had he really fallen asleep out there?

_He would rather sleep outside than with you._

Jesse flopped back down on the bed, arm still laying on what should be Hanzo’s side.

This mission sucked.

* * *

 

There was a chill in the air as Hanzo awoke, groggily, unsure of where he was. It took a moment to realize his surroundings: sniper rifle across his lap, legs stretched out as he sat in a chair, an empty pack of cigarettes on the ground with snuffed out cigarette butts littering the floor of the balcony. Above the sky was gray, a threat of rain later in the day. Slowly the previous day came back to him along with the realization his mouth tasted dry and ashy.

The archer placed the rifle to the side and stretched. His neck and lower back hurt, and his joints ached ever so slightly from sleeping outside. It was a wonder he had slept at all frankly.

He glanced back behind him in to the hotel room. Jesse was in bed still—the time on the clock impossible to read at the distance Hanzo was at—but he looked like he was awake, just unmoving.

 _Its his birthday_ , Hanzo’s mind supplied. A scowl. After yesterday’s circumstances Hanzo had neglected to go shopping for him.

Jesse sat up briefly, face looking confused as he patted the other side of the bed. He frown and slowly sunk back down into the sheets.

_He’s upset._

_And who’s fault is that?_

He couldn’t stay out on the balcony forever. He grabbed the rifle and quietly headed inside.

* * *

 

Jesse heard the click of the door and flinched. Of course the archer would have to come in eventually. Then why did he feel so scared? Was he afraid of the anger, or what the archer might say? He listened as Hanzo closed the door, propped the sniper rifle in its place with the other weapons, and went into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him and Jesse heard the faucet turn on.  

His heart ached and his stomach twisted with anxiety. He was a man grown dammit! Why was he practically hiding under the sheets when he did nothing wrong? How was he supposed to know that Hanzo…

_“He used to fuck me okay?”_

The gunslinger glared up at his ceiling. He was acting like a jealous fool. No wonder Hanzo got mad. Neither of them had ever discussed their lists of past lovers and conquests, although Jesse had eluded to having a couple. Hanzo had always been tight lipped on the matter.

_“Yoshi was my first and only love.”_

That part got Jesse more hung up than any of the other facts that Hanzo had thrown at him. Yoshi had been his bodyguard and first and _only_ love. Did that mean he had no other lovers between Yoshi and Jesse? Did that mean that he didn’t…

Just as Jesse was beginning to really think about the implications, he heard the water turn off in the bathroom and the door click open. Through half closed eyes he watched the dark form in the dim morning light of the hotel room come out of the bathroom and strip out of the yukata that he had been wearing the previous day. Hanzo shrugged on a pair of pants that were hanging in their closet before hesitating on a shirt. Whatever he pulled out of the closet Jesse couldn’t see in morning darkness. The moments slid by where Jesse couldn’t pinpoint what his boyfriend—were they even that anymore?—was doing.

Then suddenly there was a weight at the end of the bed. Jesse tried not to jolt or let the archer know he had been awake and watching. The body slid up the outside of the sheets until he was laying fully on his side of the bed up against Jesse, a warm and solid presence that smelled of smoke.

            “I know you’re awake.” His voice was calm, soft even.

Jesse opened his eyes and immediately look away, guiltily, but not before noting that Hanzo had his hair down. It suited him.

 Hanzo laid beside him for what seemed like several silent minutes before a pale hand came up to caress Jesse’s bearded jawline and turn his face to look at him. “Jesse…”

He steeled himself. He was about to get the biggest “fuck off” of a life time. The man that he had been falling for since the first time they met was about to break away—

            “I’m sorry.”

The words stunned the cowboy. Slowly he turned his eyes to Hanzo’s, his own wide with disbelief, Hanzo’s filled with a softness he had never seen before. He looked sincerely contrite.

            “Hanzo…?”

The archer’s thumbs rubbed in circles on Jesse’s jawline, his dark eyes stared into Jesse’s, only occasionally leaving to drop down to his lips. There was a hesitation as Hanzo thought of his next words.

            “You were…right to be angry with me,” he decided. “I acted like a child and irrationally. I put the mission at risk. It was not _you_ who were getting too emotional…it was me.”

It took a lot for Jesse not to simply stare slack jawed at his lover. He had never known the man to apologize or to admit he was wrong---frankly because he never was when Jesse was concerned; Hanzo was a tactical genius after all. But to have the man there, saying those things, was like a surreal dream.

            “Babe—“

Hanzo placed a finger over Jesse’s mouth. “I’m not done,” he said soft but firm, earning him a silent and awed nod. “The only person who alive who knows about my involvement with Yoshi is Genji, and I swore him to secrecy. Yoshi is a piece of my past that is…unsavory in retrospect.” He still hadn’t stop staring at Jesse, and it was frankly making the gunslinger squirm with the intensity of the gaze. “I will be frank. I…intended to never tell you.”

            “Hanners…baby,” Jesse sat up slightly so he could prop himself on his flesh forearm, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I never even bothered asking if you had ever been with anyone…I just assumed…” With his mechanical hand he gestured at Hanzo’s stretched out form, “with these looks and the fact that you were from a wealthy family, there was no way you didn’t have others.”

The ex-yakuza huffed. “ _That_ would have been Genji. He had a score sheet a mile long.” His expression grew distant as though thinking of a conversation from long ago. “ _I_ was more respectable than that—“

            “Not to be rude, but you were fucking your bodyguard,” Jesse chuckled lightly while brushing back some of the ink black hair that had fallen in Hanzo’s face. “There isn’t much respectable about that.”

Instead of denying it Hanzo merely hummed in agreement and leaned into Jesse’s touch. Fingers slowly began carding through the archer’s hair and drew him more into a laying position, turned slightly to look at his partner. They stayed silent, with Hanzo merely watching Jesse as he traced his fingers through the silky strands, sometimes stopping to brush his fingertips along the silvering hair near Hanzo’s ears. It was a cute, endearing feature as far as the cowboy was concerned.

            “You might be right.”

            “Right about two things? I must be on a roll—“

            “Don’t push it.”

Jesse smiled and gently leaned forward to kiss Hanzo’s forehead. “I guess it’s my turn to be honest, huh? I’m sorry too,” Jesse admitted. The younger of the two reached out to loop his arms around Hanzo, dragging him into his chest for a hug. “I got far too jealous. But can you blame me?” he implored. “He was so close to you…and you both were talking without me. And then the blush. God, that nearly pushed me of the edge Hanzo. To see you blush like that for him…”

Fingers curled into the sheet that was stuck between them. “I’m sorry…I was just—“ Hanzo pressed his face into Jesse’s chest, “remembering a time long ago.”

            “Hanzo.”

The tone, rich and rumbling, made Hanzo instantly look up. A large flesh hand pressed to the side of the archer’s face to keep him looking into the eyes in front of him.

            “I don’t care anymore if you tell me about him. It’s in the past. If you want to, it will be on your own time.” The thumb stretched out slightly to soothe again Hanzo’s bottom lip. “But just answer me one question. Will you do that for me?”

There were a hesitance in the deep brown eyes staring into Hanzo’s soul. A hesitance that said perhaps he wouldn’t like the answer to the question about to be posed, but he felt compelled to ask. Hanzo merely nodded, eyes locked on Jesse’s as the cowboy toyed with his lip absent mindedly.

            “Did you ever love me?”

Five short words shook Hanzo to his core. The once Shimada heir felt his eyes grow wide. He drew away out of the embrace but didn’t break eye contact with the cowboy who looked like he was having an inner struggle.

            “Jesse?”

            “When you told me about your past with Yoshi, you said he was your first and _only_ love,” he elaborated, voice even, trying not to sound chipped. “Is that still true? In our time together, even if it’s just been a little while…did you ever love me? Or was it always him?”

Any other man might have looked away after such a hard hitting question. After all, what if the lover said no? What if Hanzo had never loved him? He would be devastated. And yet there he was, staring into the gold and brown of Hanzo’s eyes, into his very being, as if awaiting a verdict that would mean getting into Heaven or Hell. The man was made of a fabric spun together with courage, self-assuredness, and nerves of steel. Hanzo admired that about him.

_Did you ever love me?_

But even then, Jesse McCree was only human.

Hanzo pulled away. “Jesse—“

            “ _Please,”_ Jesse’s voice was desperate, his grip tightening slightly on Hanzo’s shoulders where he kept him in place. “Just…just answer me this. Please. Tell me if everything has been a lie.”

A sigh. An inhale. As one man breathed out, readying himself for a reply, the other braced himself for a slap of reality.

            “I haven’t always loved you.”

Jesse didn’t breathe. The air in the room felt still, too warm, stuffy. Like the earth had been yanked out from under him, he felt like falling despite laying down.

Hanzo continued. “When you first approached me after I came to base with Genji, I was bewildered. ‘Why was this cowboy talking to me?’ ‘What did he want?’ ‘Who is he?’. And you wouldn’t leave me alone. You seemed to stalk me around base—as much as one can stalk in those spurs. You were a nuisance.”

 _Had this all been a ruse? A lie?_ Jesse felt his heart sinking. All those months of pining after the elder Shimada, purposely involving him in team activities, watching his back when on mission, seeking him out to get closer…

            “When you asked me out I had my reservations. I admit, yes, I thought of Yoshi still,” the archer said. “I had known Yoshi since we were both young, and we had been involved for several years once I was older. He was with me nearly every hour of every day, and we were so physically close that when you kissed me the first time I couldn’t help but think of him.”

            “Is that the reason? Is that the reason you never wanted to go further? Because of him?”

Hanzo nodded slowly.

_It makes sense now._

            “He…he was the only one that had ever been with me like that until you.” Hanzo’s eyes flicked up from where they had been looking into the sheets, willing to sink into them, suddenly up to Jesse’s. “I may as well tell you everything,” he said quietly, resigned.

By then the sunlight was streaming in through the windows. The sunbeams illuminated the metal on the guns propped up against the far wall, and all the dust particles twirling in the air. Hanzo slid down into the sheets finally, laying on his back beside Jesse who was still as a board. How did the mission come to this? One minute they’re being deployed to find a weapon or at least its schematics. Now they were laying side by side, one man ready to lay his past bare for the lover beside him while the other felt like his stomach was twisting like a wet towel. He hadn’t expected to be Hanzo’s only lover in his lifetime, but for Jesse everything had been real.

Hanzo stared up at the ceiling, but despite where his eyes looked, he wasn’t truly looking; his mind was going back, rewinding like an ancient tape, trying to find the beginning. Instead of the ceiling his mind supplied him with memories of over a decade before—before even the incident with Genji.

            “Yoshi was given to me. Perhaps ‘given’ is a strange word to use,” Hanzo mused, “but it is not wrong. He was born into part of our clan, in a non family branch, that supplies us with most of our security. If I had been born a woman, perhaps he would have been chosen as my husband instead of the girl they ultimately chose.”

 _That_ fact made Jesse glare at him out the corner of his eye.

            “He’s a couple years older than me; I think he must have turned forty this year. Regardless, I grew up with him. And I always had a crush on him.”

The flare of jealousy stirred up in the base of Jesse’s stomach.

            “I don’t know when he found out—perhaps he always knew. But when I turned sixteen he kissed me for the first time.” Hanzo smiled ever so faintly up at the ceiling. He had plenty of awful memories regarding his time within the clan, but that kiss had not been one of them. It had been sweet, innocent. At least for him; he couldn’t speak for Yoshi or his intentions.

            “I’m sure your parents were thrilled.” Jesse couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He didn’t mean to, but just the thought of that rat face knowing such a young Hanzo…kissing him…it sent waves of anger through him.

Hanzo chuckled at the tone. “My parents were not aware. Not then.”

            “When—“

            “For two years we snuck around,” Hanzo began. “We kissed in private, sometimes our touches wandered to more inappropriate areas, and to a younger me, it was thrilling--to be doing something so _forbidden_ with someone I was not meant to be with. But when I turned eighteen…we went further.”

Jesse sucked in a breath. His metal hand clenched briefly into the sheets before he checked himself.

If Hanzo sensed his partner’s jealousy, he did not acknowledge it. “He waited until night time, after a grand party the Shimada had thrown on my behalf. Yoshi led me to my private chambers as always, but when I thought he was going to bid me goodnight, he followed me in.” Hanzo’s expression was distant as he recalled the suit clad blonde catch his foot in the door and press himself in, much to a younger Hanzo’s delight. He had always been jealous of Genji who, even three years his younger, had more freedom than Hanzo. The younger Shimada was able to have a plethora of friends, to goof off from his studies, to date who he wanted. Hanzo however was held to striker rules. “My mother was already looking for a good marriage match for me, despite being barely a man,” Hanzo admitted bitterly. “A girl who needed to come from a good bloodline with good monetary ties, in good standing with the clan. I didn’t have the courage or gall to tell my parents that I didn’t want to marry a nice, rich girl. How could I tell them their respectable son, the heir to the Shimada estate and clan, would rather have a rebellious man in his bed?”

            “He pushed himself onto you?” the cowboy growled. The very thought made him sit up, dragging some of the covers with him. He was ready to march into Shimada estate, guns blazing, looking for the ass who—

            “No.” Hanzo’s tone was still nostalgic. A little quieter he added, “It was anything but unwanted.”

That hurt. Just a little. Jesse slowly slid back down onto his back, scowling up at the ceiling. He had no right to be jealous. It wasn’t as if Hanzo was cheating on him. That was all in the past. But as Hanzo alluded to the activities—roughly handled activities by the sounds of it—Jesse got more and more irritated. He could show Hanzo such a nicer time, if he ever asked that is.

            “Sounds like he should have treated you better,” he huffed. “You’re not supposed to be that rough with a—“

            “I know that now!” Hanzo’s ears were red and burning. “I know…”

Jesse reached over, despite his growing jealousy and desire to hold Hanzo close and never let go, and merely brushed some hair out of his face. “So? What happened? You finally got what you wanted right?”

The archer smiled sadly sending and ache through Jesse. “We were able to sneak around for a bit, but with his…roughness, I was far less _quiet_ than I should have been.”

_“I would make noise.”_

The words spoken to the gunslinger while they sprawled out on the comm tower floor back in Gibraltar came hurling back in Jesse’s face like a sound slap.

            “One of the human servants overheard us one afternoon.” The smile slipped from Hanzo’s face as he recalled. Brow furrowed he elaborated. “It had been my idea. I didn’t think anyone was going to in the halls so close to my room at that hour…So I didn’t attempt to keep my voice down. And of course they _immediately_ told my father.”

            “What happened then? Weren’t you supposed to be marrying a girl or something?”

            “I was. Suki, a girl two years my junior had been chosen from a fairly prestigious family. My mother was going through the process of negotiating for an eventual marriage contract between the two of us. I had met her a couple times,” Hanzo recalled, “She was petite, round in her features, kind, and quiet. She was a sweet girl, but not someone who I would ever have been happy with.”

Jesse cocked his head to the side. “Why not? She sounds nice enough. And she’s got a good background I’m assuming.”

Hanzo smirked. “Aside from the fact that she was a _woman_ , Jesse,” his turned briefly to waltz his fingers playfully up Jesse’s chest, “I prefer men with a little more _bite_. Something so…tame was of no interest to me. And still isn’t.”

Well if that didn’t get Jesse’s heart racing a little.

The archer resumed. “When my father found out he was furious. He separated us, barred us from seeing each other for some time—an omnic was chosen as my guard in Yoshi’s absence. My father was beside himself. He yelled that _I_ was the direct heir to the Shimada clan and all its holdings. Genji was not a reliable source of responsibility, so my father claimed he could not hope to will everything to him at the time of his death. He stressed that my mother was negotiating for a marriage for me and if word got out I was laying with a _man_ , our reputation as clan leaders would be tarnished.” Something dark flashed in Hanzo’s eyes. If Jesse hadn’t glanced over at him he would have missed it entirely. “My father threatened me, never do stray from the path he had set for me again, or there _would_ be consequences.”

            “Baby…”

He shook his head. “I should have heeded his warning. Perhaps things would have went differently.”

            “What happened?” Something in Hanzo’s demeanor had changed. He seemed to withdraw from whatever he was remembering.

            “I refused to listen to my father. Yoshi and I continued to sneak around. I couldn’t get enough of him, and to this day I don’t know why. But again, we were caught. This time by my father himself.”

The blood drained from Jesse’s face. Hanzo quietly sat up and pulled up his shirt. Like Jesse, Hanzo had scars crisscrossing his back, no doubt the remains of being on the run as a fighter and assassin for so long. Jesse knew what the kind of life did to a body. Hell, he had some nicks out of him, including his damn hand and forearm. Slender fingers traced over a couple in particular on his back. They were a faint pink, barely visible in the dim light of the cloudy morning. Jesse traced a finger over them as well before Hanzo pulled his shirt back down.

            “He gave Yoshi an ultimatum. A sum of money was offered to him to go on abroad for a couple years and handle another Shimada property in South Korea, this time as head of security, never to see me again. Or, he take me and leave.”

Jesse inhaled sharply. “Your own father was going to disown you?”

Hanzo gave a sarcastic snort. “Why wouldn’t he? His eldest son was disobeying him, sleeping with a male bodyguard, and on top of that the rumor had spread that I was doing so, and Suki’s family took high offense that I would be sleeping around and ended the marriage negotiations. Disowning me would save him at least a little face. And after all, he _did_ have Genji—no matter how unreliable he was, he was still flesh and blood Shimada.”

            “What did that bastard chose?” Even before asking the question Jesse felt like he knew the answer.

The sigh that escaped Hanzo’s lips what the exhale of a man who was plagued by the memory he was reliving. The archer could see the scene replayed plain as day before his eyes. And although he couldn’t relay everything to Jesse—the slight summer breeze coming through the window, the sunlight coming through the trees, the sweat beading on Yoshi’s brow, his own hands shaking at his side—he could see it all.

            “He chose to leave. Without me.”

Jesse had never seen such a look of pain sweep across Hanzo’s eyes. He had seen the man injured before on missions, and even when he had been shot in his leg by a Talon agent, that pained look didn’t hold a candle to the one he had on as he lay there beside him that morning.

His voice cracked despite his best efforts. “He gladly accepted the money and the position. I begged him to stay— _knew_ I was going to be in trouble and _needed_ him to protect me. But he didn’t. While he was counting his credits on an air shuttle to our newest base in South Korea, my father was making sure I never even thought about loving anyone besides who he told me again.”

Hanzo didn’t have time to react before he was being pulled flush against Jesse. The gunslinger wrapped his arms so tightly around the ex-Shimada heir that Hanzo couldn’t breathe for a second. A metal hand guided Hanzo’s head to Jesse’s broad shoulder.

            “I’m so sorry Hanzo. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.” Gentle fingers soothed across the top of his silky strands. “God darling, I wish I had been there to protect you instead of him.”

It didn’t take any convincing for Hanzo to return the hug. He buried in his face in the shoulder and inhaled the scent of Jesse’s shirt. Comfort from another was not something Hanzo was used to; even as a child he was hardly ever coddled, only told to buck it up. To have Jesse pressing him close as though to melt them together for the sole purpose of consoling him through troublesome memories made Hanzo’s heart swell. The ending to that dark story could wait until another time.

            “The rest of my answer.”

Jesse looked down at him in confusion. “Come again?”

Hanzo didn’t look up, instead choosing to speak with a face full of Jesse’s shirt. “I said that in the beginning all I thought about when we were together was Yoshi. And that you were troublesome.”

            “That you did…” Jesse agreed sourly.

            “I wasn’t finished.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow at Hanzo as his only gesture to ‘get on with it then’.

            “In the beginning I was confused. Torn between the all the ghosts of my past and wanting to start new and fresh in Gibraltar, surrounded by strangers and a possible good cause to fight for. You dogged my every step, and with each kiss you gave me, I felt as though you meant it.” He chuckled directly between Jesse’s pecs. “It was…different. I was so used to having people interested in me for my money and name…that when you offered a partnership to _me_ , the de-throned yakuza heir…it was baffling. You legitimately had nothing to gain from—“

Jesse squeezed tighter. “You’re more than just your blood and name, Hanzo. You’re a person.”

The cowboy felt Hanzo completely still in his arms for several seconds—his very breathing so shallow it was as if he were holding his breath. Then it returned. Slowly.

            “Jesse—“ he blurted out, pulling away to hold Jesse at arm’s length. Jesse was startled at the sudden shove, and even more startled at the glassy look in Hanzo’s eyes paired with the pink dashed across his cheeks and nose. “I fell in love with you the night you took me to the bar!”

“The bar?”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten—“

 _I could never forget._ The ride in, the cheese fries, teaching Hanzo how to play billiards while pressed up close. And of course the fight. His eyes flitted from his lap to Hanzo and back again.

            “Why?” McCree’s voice was quiet, a type of shyness that Hanzo had never seen on the man. “Why then?”

The archer slowly slid forward, taking up residence in Jesse’s lap. His arms looped around Jesse’s neck, his face coming dangerously close to the point they were just a fraction away from kissing. Jesse could feel his heart pounding away in his ribcage. Hanzo was looking at him like he was a priceless gem in a case. So close and in the privacy of their hotel room Jesse could see the minor scars flecked across his cheeks, the brown blending to gold in his eyes, the silver starting to slowly spread out from the wing-like floofs on the sides of his face.

            “Because you made me feel normal,” he breathed. “There was no Shimada, no yakuza, no kin-killing, no omnic war…that night it was just you and me.” His lips inched closer until Jesse could smell the smoke from his last cigarette mixing with the mint of his toothpaste. “And you started a bar fight for me.”

            “Does that make me cool?” Jesse asked. It was a dumb question, holding no true relevance. But his ears were burning so bad from the blush that he had to saying _something_. Hanzo had just admitted to loving him—and his heart was racing.

Hanzo smirked. “I guess.”

Then he plunged in. Lips met softly. No tongue on teeth. Just chaste kissing. It was as if some pact had been made that Jesse wasn’t aware of and that had been the seal. He groaned gently and kissed back, threading his flesh fingers through the silky strands tumbling down his shoulders. Hanzo hummed contently in Jesse’s lap. There was no rush, no demand to do anything more, simply holding one another, letting their lips press together softly or just graze across the other’s jawbone or cheek.

The morning carried on outside their room but they paid no mind. It wasn’t until Hanzo’s stomach growled much later did they both decide to inconvenience themselves for some food. There was a big day ahead of them after all; a meeting with the Shimada elders at 3:00 would decide a good deal of the success of the rest of the mission.

            “We have some time before the meeting,” Hanzo informed Jesse. The pair were sitting at a table together down at the continental breakfast, their chairs obnoxiously close, hands clasped together under the table. _Like a pair of teens_ , Hanzo decided not unhappily. “We will be going into town for a bit.”

Between bites of food Jesse gave him a questioning look. Hanzo merely smirked back.

            “For…?”

            “You’ll see.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be interesting. Stay tuned. 
> 
> Hint: Ever wonder what Jesse would look like in an upscale clothing store with Hanzo?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update. But here's a short, fluffy chapter. Work was killing me, then college started back up...then I went to Katsucon. 
> 
> Where I met some adorable people. 
> 
> And a certain adorable Hanzo being all cute and shy was all it took for me to want to write again.
> 
> Thanks Dorian.

Where Hanzo had driven Jesse was _not_ anything the cowboy had been expecting—not that he had really had any inkling of what he was in for. Hanzo had called for a limo that took them about ten minutes from the hotel in grand style; Jesse could count the times on one hand that he had been in a limo, and only one of them included him sitting in the back upon black leather, shielded from the outside by tinted windows while his boyfriend and him drank mimosas from thin stemmed glasses. Jesse was wearing a business suit in black and white with a blue tie, but Hanzo was wearing a closed kyudo-gi that was a light and dark blue. His ink black hair dusted his shoulders and eyes hid behind fake glasses to keep up with Aaya’s appearance. He looked absolutely stunning to Jesse, although, to be truthful, he could wear a potato sack and make it look good.

 The location Hanzo stopped them at was a fancy looking place. Wedged between a book store and a coffee shop in the depths of Hanamura. It was a tall building, mostly made of glass windows that were tinted. Sunlight bounced off its shiny façade, accented by a lot of gold. Red ropes laced the walkway along the front like something out of Hollywood and a red carpet led through the glass revolving door which was maned by two men in tailored suits. Two interlocking G’s hung above the door and the name of the company hung large on the side of the building up by the top.

Jesse whistled when Hanzo and he climbed out of the limo. “Gucci? You’re taking me to a Gucci store?”

Hanzo poked his head into the limo and told the driver something in Japanese. With a nod the driver was pulling away from the curb and going back into traffic. Only then did Hanzo turn to talk to Jesse. “I recall telling you that we would get you a new suit—better than a knock off.”

                “Now hold up—“

                “I decided we would do it while in Japan,” he said pleasantly. The archer reached up to adjust Jesse’s tie as an excuse to draw closer, his nimble fingers soothing over the blue silk. “I want to see you in the finest things.”

                “Like a real dragon,” Jesse breathed out in realization. Only when Hanzo shot him an irritated look did Jesse elaborate. “Dragons horde treasure right? And designer clothes—“

Hanzo gave the tie a sharp tug, making Jesse wince slightly. “I think the analogy works,” he admitted lowly. “If I were a dragon I _would_ have the best treasure. And that’s why I want to see _him_ in the best.”

Jesse flushed red at the implication that he as worth so much to be called treasure. “Han—“

                “ _Eric,_ let’s go inside.”

Inside was no less beautiful than the outside—no, it was downright glamorous. The red carpet extended down the main aisle, blanketing part of the white marble floor. Matching the floor were white marble Corinthian style pillars that appeared to be holding up the extremely tall ceiling. Against the far while were lighted cubbies, each slot containing a purse, each a different style, color, and pattern. On another wall hung kimonos that could clothe angels. Displays of pants, shirts, tank tops, and outfits Jesse couldn’t even name sat throughout the store, sorted by color and type. They were greeted as soon as they stepped in by a wonderful sandalwood scent and the smiling faces of employees who bowed deeply to them. Jesse tried to look everywhere at once, completely overwhelmed. He immediately shoved his hands in this pockets, which Hanzo was quick to note.

                “What are you doing?”

Jesse glanced at him quickly before his eyes began flicking around almost nervously. “Hmm. Not touching anything.”

Hanzo stared at him for a moment before erupting into muffled laughter behind his hand. “You are an _adult_. You can _touch_ in this store.”

                “Still makes me nervous. This stuff looks more expensive than anything I own.”

                “Not for long.”

The duo moved slowly throughout the men’s section, picking through the latest Japanese fashions. Everything reeked of wealth. It wasn’t too hard for Jesse to imagine Hanzo or Genji running around in these sorts of high class fabrics and patterns in their youth. Most of it didn’t suit Jesse’s cowboy taste—he could only imagine wearing floral shirts with his spurs. But the suits…Hanzo had him standing in front of several mirrors, direction two women who worked at the store who were taking his measurements. Arms out, tape measures twisted around him while the other woman scribbled numbers down. One of them said something to Hanzo in Japanese that made him laugh a little.

                “What are you laughing about?” McCree huffed. First thing he was doing when he got back to Gibraltar was investing in software to help him learn Japanese.

                “She said you are a large man.”

                “Well considering how small you are—“

His boyfriend frowned. “I am not _small._ ”

                “You’re 5’8” darlin’.”

                “That’s not small.”

                “Certainly ain’t tall.”’

Hanzo crossed his arms and scowled—his typical look when Jesse was right about something mundane and Hanzo didn’t want to swallow his pride and admit it. The archer watched the women finish up the measurements before bringing out a book containing all their fabric swatches for him to sample. He thumbed through the book before picking out a deep, cool black suit fabric that was soft with a left sleeve that was a bit more durable so it didn’t rip on Jesse’s prosthetic. The women soon left them to put in the order for the suit.

Jesse wanted to be close to his partner, but in case any of the other shoppers were yakuza, he refused to risk it. “You don’t have to buy me a suit,” he said gently. “They’re a lot money.”

He wouldn’t hear of it. Instead of replying he merely waved him off and went to the wall of kimonos. Jesse watched his lover’s face as he ran a gentle hand down some of the silk pieces. His dark eyes looked so distant, so longing. How many of these did he have when he was heir to the biggest criminal family in the east?

_He probably looked like a prince._

What Jesse wouldn’t give to have known him. If only Blackwatch could have sent him on a mission to Japan. As he followed Hanzo, a couple steps behind, his mind wandered to a would-be mission. He was sent to find out about the Shimada for Reyes. ‘Be careful!’ he would have been told by his old commander. He would have made up some excuse to get close—maybe they would have stumbled into each other in the market, or in the shrine. He would have asked for a tour, poured the honey on thick with his accent, called him every beautiful name under the sun to make the sour-puss smile. They would have fallen in love instantly. Sneaking around would have consumed Jesse’s days in Japan, but he would have Hanzo in his arms always, or bent over every flat surface for a piece of heaven.

It was as he walked through the more traditional Japanese section that he spotted more ribbons, not too unlike the ones that were normally in Hanzo’s hair. There was one, a dark red with little yellow lines and triangles running along the trim that caught his eye. It was probably the cheapest thing in the store, but it reminded him of home—more specifically, it looked kind of like his serape. He plucked it off the display. The movement made Hanzo turn to him.

                “Eric?”

Jesse held the ribbon gently up to Hanzo’s jet black hair, making Hanzo’s eyes widen. “Beautiful,” the cowboy murmured.

The flush came unbidden to Hanzo’s cheeks. “Jes--Eric…”

                “Let me get this for you.” His tone was as serious as his eyes.

                “But it’s _your_ birthday,” Hanzo protested instantly. “That’s why we’re getting you the—“

Jesse’s voice was low, a rumble that shot down to pool in Hanzo’s belly. “Let me. Get this. For _you_. I want you to wear it.” He leaned down, pretending to adjust the collar of Hanzo’s kyudo-gi. “I want you to think of me when you wear it.”

Hanzo’s voice failed him entirely. He wanted to protest, or to thank him, maybe both, but all he could manage was a small shy nod that made Jesse think cupid had shot him through the heart again.

They looked through the rest of the store, both aching to hold the other’s hand but having to resist, until check out. Hanzo had also picked out gold Gucci cuff links for him, as well as a gold and black pocket watch. Jesse paid for the ribbon first before Hanzo nudged him out of the way.

                “How are you going to—“

Any question of how he was going to pay died when his boyfriend pulled out a slick black credit card from his wallet and handed it over. The woman at the counter immediately looked impressed, but scanned it regardless. Jesse’s heart jumped into his chest. That card was what celebrities in America put stuff on. How did Hanzo have one?

                “The boss send you with that?” he joked.

Hanzo stared at him for a moment before smiling. “Yeah, it’s Winston’s.”

Well that made him feel a little better. At least Hanzo wasn’t spending his own money on expensive Gucci for him.

Hanzo left the address to the hotel so everything would be sent there. From there, they had to go back to the Shimada estate for a meeting with the elders. Jesse could feel the spike in anxiety roll off of Hanzo the moment they left the store. Reaching out with his metal hand he stopped Hanzo.

                “Hold up a sec…”

Carefully, using an elastic that he kept for his own hair, he pulled Hanzo’s longer strands together in a low pony tail before wrapping it with the ribbon. He tied a tight bow with the ribbon overtop the elastic. Stepping back he admired how the red contrasted with Hanzo’s dark hair. “Beautiful, just like you.”

Pink tinted Hanzo’s cheeks just as the limo was pulling back up. Hanzo stepped closer as if to share a joke but grazed his lips on Jesse’s jaw. “I love you.”

Jesse’s heart skipped a beat. Had he heard right? Jesse stared down at him, wide eyed. “Did you—“

                “Perhaps it isn’t under the most romantic circumstances,” he whispered so no one would overhear, “but I do.”

The grin on Jesse’s face could have sustained Hanzo forever. It was as bright as a desert sun. That was the first time Hanzo had ever said it to Jesse, and it filled his heart to the brim with affection. They crawled into the tinted back to the limo and after Hanzo gave orders to the driver on where to take them did Jesse leaned over and kissed him out of sight of everyone. It was all lips moving slowly and deeply together in tango of complete affection.

                “I love you too Hanzo. More than anyone. Nothing, not the moon, sun, or stars in the sky can hold a candle to your beauty, nor the love I feel for you Hanners,” he cooed softly. “I’ve loved you for so long. So long…”

The kiss ended chastely and full of smiles. “The day is not over, Jesse McCree. Just wait until later.”

Now _that_ gave Jesse a shiver of delight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssssssst there was a lie in here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. But here it is!! Chapter 10. How exciting. Hm, I don't think there are any warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> As usual, the italic conversational bits are to be read as if they were in Japanese.

Much to Jesse’s displeasure, Yoshi was there to greet them as soon as their limo pulled up to the estate. Comments were past between Yoshi and Hanzo in Japanese—Jesse could only note with a bit of bitterness that Yoshi _must_ have been complimenting the more traditional clothes Hanzo was wearing, judging on the fingers that were dancing down the arm of the silky fabric. The sky had finally opened to a torrential downpour, leaving the trio no choice but to cling to their umbrellas as they rushed for some sort of cover. Their host led them through the main archway leading into the Shimada estate and around the side of the gravel garden before the bell shrine, underneath a canopy that also served as a walkway for the level above. Armed guards leaned up against the stone of the building, faces hidden behind masks resembling white and red oni, one on either side of a sliding paper door. Even from outside the room in the moist air the smell of various smokes were rolling out from a slight crack in the door.  Jesse was quick to note that aside from some guards posting inconspicuously around the gardens, that there was no foot traffic.

                “ _The elders are waiting inside,_ ” Yoshi said to Hanzo. They shook out their umbrellas before placing them in holders nearby. “ _Do you play poker, Aaya-San?_ ”

Hanzo made a gesture of adjusting his hair in the ribbon Jesse had gotten him. “ _I do not. I am not very good at keeping a poker face. It seems almost ridiculous to me—losing so much money over whether I can maintain a solemn face. And to have the correct cards on top of that? Lady Luck does not favor me so._ ” He then glanced over at Jesse who was gazing around sharply, doing his duty to notice everything. A small smile tugged at the corner of Hanzo’s mouth, something that did not go unnoticed by the Shimada representative. “Eric however is an excellent poker player.”

Jesse nearly jumped at the sudden English. “P-Poker?”

                “You used to play a lot of poker back in the day, didn’t you?”

He went to tip his hat up a little, only to realize he had left it in the hotel again. The action went aborted with a sweep of his hand through his hair. “I reckon I did…Is there going to be poker?”

Yoshi didn’t hide his annoyance of having to speak English on Jesse’s behalf. “Indeed…the elders enjoy games to occupy themselves while also doing business.” His dark eyes darted over to Hanzo. “If Aaya-San does not wish to participate, you may take his place whilst he conducts business.”

                “He’s going to be in the same room right? I can’t rightfully leave him.”

A sneer. “Of course. The _dog_ will be allowed to maintain his _duties_.” Yoshi then turned completely to Hanzo. “ _Aaya-San, you must tell me: where did you pick up such a loyal beast?_ _He’s seems more than the average type that are picked up in the gutter._ ”

Hanzo’s eyes flashed with anger that visibly surprised Yoshi. “Eric has been with me for many years. He is as loyal as they come. I will not have you talk about him in such a degrading manner. Do you understand me?” His tone was firm, angry, and positively alpha. It sent a shiver down Jesse’s spine. Not that Hanzo was a meek or docile man by any means. But this…

Yoshi coughed awkwardly into his fist. “ _Of course, my apologies. Now if you would…”_

The two guards slid the doors open for them, revealing a large, busy room. Overall it was dimly lit, a brighter fixture of red and white lights above a large poker table the main source of lighting for the entire room. The walls were an off white, accented by dark wood floors, a depiction of a fierce dragon running the length of the room along the wall while a large Shimada family crest looked burned into the floor at the center of the room. From somewhere in the ceiling a stereo system was pushing out a low base that mixed in well with the din of various conversations around the room, blurring each into obscurity unless you were a part of them.  A couple sofas and chairs sat in clusters, each filled with older prestigious men, many of them accompanied by a young woman while younger yakuza stood around, gold chains around their necks. Each woman looked absolutely breath taking, the symmetry of their faces making them look like models, while the clothes adorning them made them shine like jewels in the red lights. The men weren’t much different; if they weren’t dressed similarly to Hanzo, they wore only the most tailored suits of various patterns. The whole place spoke of the vast wealth of the Shimada-Gumi. Jesse could only remember his own gang days as they pressed further into the room. Deadlock had been a lethal gang to run into, but they were more of the motorcycle gang type who used brutal force to get what they wanted. They chain smoked around pool tables and got rowdy when the beer and pot ran out. These people, lingering around the room, eyes sharp like vipers, looked far more dangerous than anyone in Deadlock ever had. On one table Jesse could clearly see a group at a table using razorblades to even out lines of white powder on glass sheets, on another there guns being shown off, and one of the men they passed by as they followed behind Yoshi clearly had blood on the collar of his white shirt. Smoke lingered in a cloud at the ceiling, a collection from all the cigars, cigarettes, and other things being smoked.

 _And this is what Hanzo was the heir of_ , Jesse thought to himself.

Jesse could only fathom what it must have been like for Hanzo growing up surrounded by this den of wolves. And, if he was being truthful to himself, it explained some of the present Hanzo so much better. From what he heard from gossip and tid-bits around Gibraltar base—and what he had seen himself-- Hanzo had been noted as pretty good operative out in the field—never shying away from taking  lethal shots and had never faltered when see blood on himself or team mates. Nothing ever seemed to shock the man when it came to the brutality of Talon.

_This is probably why._

His partner was completely different than how he had been when they had first encountered Yoshi. This Hanzo looked refined, perfectly content in his own skin and in control. His eyes were uninterested in his surroundings—leaving that to Jesse’s careful eye—and his mouth was set in a slight frown. His posture spoke of indifference and disinterest, completely in contrast to Jesse who felt like his whole body was being torn every which way, trying to take in every crucial detail. Hanzo was used to this. Jesse watched out of the corner of his eye as Hanzo navigated the room with well-timed steps, never bumping anyone, unlike Jesse who nearly crashed into three people. It made sense. Hanzo had been groomed for the position from his conception up until Genji’s murder. A decade may have passed since Hanzo fled the Shimada, but with so much training on etiquette and murder…

_He couldn’t just forget._

At the back of the room were two things that drew Jesse’s attention. One was the large game table. It could easily sit ten people plus the House on the other side. The ten stools looked comfortable and nothing too out of the ordinary, but the game table was a piece of art in itself. Dark wood dragons acted as the legs to the table, supporting a heavy looking table top of the same wood and a stretch of dark blue fabric with a silver Shimada logo glimmering under the white lines for the card slots and such. Sitting a couple feet back behind where the dealer would stand was a large oval table, illuminated by its own red lighting, set apart from the rest of the room by sheer curtains that draped around it to give it a sense of privacy. A painting of a blue and green dragon tangled together, flying through a blue sky in a mountainous pass hung on the wall.

As they approached a woman holding a platter of drinks handed them each a flute of Champaign. Jesse reached for the thin stem hesitantly, as did Hanzo. The woman walked away before a ‘thank you’ could be given.

Yoshi clinked his against Hanzo’s. “To business.”

                “To business.”

Jesse drank his sourly. Every eye in the room had given them the once over already. Rumors of “Aaya and the bodyguard” had spread amongst the ranks, and many of the men in the room—who held less power within the Shimada than they were willing to admit—came merely to see all the hullabaloo.

At the poker table six men of various ages were already sitting. The dealer was a solemn looking girl who was probably no older than twenty, dressed to stun in a Shimada colored suit. Her cold blue eyes flashed up when she noted Yoshi. The girl exchanged a few words with the yakuza representative before motioning Jesse to join them.

Hanzo caught his shoulder before he sat. “The rules are the same in Japan as in America.” Money was produced from Hanzo’s clothes and pressed into Jesse’s hands. The cowboy didn’t know the exchange rate between Yen and the American dollar to be able to compare, but the stack he was given felt heavy in his hands. In a low voice Hanzo murmured. “Watch for cheating Jesse, but do _not_ call them out on it. They will kill you for the slight.”

Jesse barked out a laugh that drew Yoshi’s glare. “So it _is_ the same as American poker,” he joked. “Don’t you worry your pretty face Aaya-San. I won’t waste _too_ much of your money.”

The wink Jesse gave had Hanzo rolling his eyes. In practiced confidence that Jesse always tried to enter a game event with, the cowboy made his way to the gambling table. He deposited the yen on the counter for the dealer who took it, counting it slowly with an impressed expression before sliding a lot of chips in front of him. To say Jesse wasn’t a little nervous would have been a lie; the last time he had been in a poker game had been the day Overwatch had stormed into Deadlock’s base, changing Jesse’s life forever.

The one time heir to the yakuza empire was led away by Yoshi. Yoshi introduced Hanzo to a group of old men who were sitting at the curtained off table, a group of men that Hanzo bowed low to much to Jesse’s surprise. Once Hanzo joined them, sitting alone on one side of the table with his back to Jesse, Yoshi returned to the poker table, climbing into an empty chair a couple down from Jesse, bringing the total amount of players to eight.

                “I catch you cheating American, you will be missing fingers,” Yoshi said sweetly to Jesse.

Jesse’s smile didn’t falter. He took a sip of his drink while the dealer scanned a card Yoshi slid her before handing over a great deal of chips—enough to match Jesse it would seem. “Wouldn’t dream on it Slick.”

The cards were dealt.

* * *

 

It was close to two hours later when Hanzo stepped away from the table with a deep bow, contract in hand, his own signature scrawled across the bottom along with those of them men around him.

                “ _I look forward to doing business with the Shimada in the near future_.”

The group all bowed their heads in unison. It was a done deal. The Shimada would protect Aaya and his assets from other gangs, thugs, businesses, and the like, and in return they would be getting the most up to date weapons on the market anywhere in the world. It was a lucrative deal for both sides so far as the Shimada were aware. Hanzo had made quite the impression; he was polite but not naïve, firm yet flexible in his demands, aware of customs yet aiming for advancement. ‘A perfect yakuza man’ one of the elders had commented. Hanzo hadn’t quite been sure what to make of that. Regardless, he (and Jesse) had been invited back the following night for a feast, dedicated to their new union.

He turned his attention back to the poker table for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime only to see a crowd had gathered. Six of the yakuza men had left the table, only Yoshi and Jesse remaining. Jesse looked calm and collected as he shielded his cards from view of the onlookers—a smart move considering Yoshi would have had moles and friends signaling to him. Yoshi on the other hand had beads of sweat dripping down his temple and even from a distance Hanzo could tell his teeth and jaw were both clenched in anger. Then the final cards were dealt. Hanzo couldn’t see from where he was what either man placed down, but whatever it had been made three things happen simultaneously. Whatever the cards had been a roar went up through the crowd that had gathered. Excited yells of disbelief ripped through the crowd that had people turning to one another. The second thing was Yoshi tossing his Champaign glass to the ground, making it shatter, while he jumped to his feet. The third was a laughing and excited Jesse sliding the remaining chips over to his side of the table.

                “Aaya-San!” he called in that whiskey smooth southern drawl, “I won ya some money!”

Yoshi was spinning on him in an instant. “There is no fucking way you won! That was against all odds—“

                “What can I say Yashi? Lady Luck must favor me—“

                “It’s Yoshi!” he hissed.

Jesse waved him off, arms almost over flowing with chips. The dealer quickly counted them out before handing Jesse a large sum of yen. “I think I won ya something Aay—“

Yoshi growled angrily. “I don’t know how some American _hick_ could have beat me! You must have cheated—“

It was Hanzo’s turn to step in. He cut in between Yoshi and Jesse, stopping Jesse from turning to start a fight and stopping Yoshi from continuing forward with that pocketed knife he was going for. “ _Are you accusing my bodyguard of cheating Yoshi-San? You dare degrade an off branch of myself in such a manner? I am a guest to the Shimada!”_

Yoshi spluttered, waving his arms in front of him in an almost comic manner, anger instantly receeding. He regarded Hanzo, who was standing cross armed in front of him. “ _No, no! Aaya-San I know you would never cheat—“_

 _“Eric is as fair as any other poker player, regardless of where he hails from._ ” Hanzo turned away in a way Jesse could only describe as dramatic. “ _I hope this is not the treatment my men will be receiving every time we have business to discuss with the Shimada. One would think it shameful for a_ henchman _to carry on in such a fashion…_ ”

                “ _He’s quite right._ ” One of the elders from the back table, an old man with long white hair and facial scars on the left side of his face was standing now just to the side of the dealer who looked like she was sweating bullets. Yoshi visibly paled when the man spoke and bowed to him, not raising his head. “ _Apologize to the body guard. He, like his master, is a guest to our estate…which you are supposed to be representing._ ”

There was no arguing. When Yoshi turned to Jesse and Hanzo, he prostrated himself on the floor, hands being cut into by the glass, pant knees soaking with spilled alcohol. Jesse looked at Hanzo for any clue of what was going on, but what he found was Hanzo looking down the slope of his nose with eyes cold as winter, mouth firm and unwavering. He truly looked a yakuza lord in that moment and it shook Jesse to his core.

                “Please accept my apologies,” Yoshi said from the floor. If the glass or drink bothered him he didn’t say anything under the eyes of his elder.

Hanzo muttered words of acceptance before motioning to Jesse. They were leaving. It took only a gesture and the crowd was parting for them to walk through. The sense of regality in Hanzo’s walk made Jesse wonder what would have happened if Hanzo _had_ taken over the Shimada. Certainly Overwatch would have had so much more on their plate if one of the biggest threats to world pieces was a vicious yakuza lord name Hanzo.  The duo were handed their umbrellas by the oni omnic guards and without looking back they headed towards the gate.

* * *

 

                “That was amazing!” Jesse laughed.

They burst through their hotel room door, Jesse in a jolly mood, Hanzo smiling broadly. The gifts from Gucci had been in a package outside their door waiting for them, as were the pizza Hanzo had ordered in the taxi on their way back and a box that Jesse had no clue what was inside. Not that he much cared; he was riding on cloud nine after his utter victory over Yoshi. Jesse was content gnawing on the remainder of his crust as he thumbed through the big bills in his hands, while Hanzo made a quick call to Winston in between bites of pizza to inform him of the success of that part of the mission.

                “You made him _quite_ mad,” Hanzo commented to Jesse once he hung up with Winston. In his years of knowing Yoshi he had never seen an outburst like that—or him on his knees in quite that manner. The blonde had been quite afraid when that particular elder had spoken, but after years of being away Hanzo couldn’t place a name with the face.

                “Good. That snake got what was coming to him.”

They made an easy victim out of the pizza—both ravenous from the cat and mouse game of the day. By then the sun had set and Hanamura was lighting up with its brilliant nightlife. The light on Jesse’s side of the bed was all that was on so he could count the money, all other light came from the neon lights of nearby business signs. Jesse had laid out the yen in piles across the bed to keep his numbers right as he counted. Hanzo came up behind him, wrapping his arms around the man’s torso, making the cowboy jump.

                “Come on. Let’s go shower—“

The archer had made to help Jesse out of the suit jacket he was still wearing when Jesse jerked away, words of protest on his lips, when suddenly something slipped out of the sleeve of his jacket. Curiously Hanzo leaned down to pick it up. Cardstock paper. A king of hearts. He bolted upright, the card in hand.

                “Jesse? What is this?”

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah…that, darlin’, is the king of hearts.”

                “I can see that but why—“

The movement of the one card falling to the floor caused a landslide. Several more cards came spilling out onto the floor between the gunslinger and his boyfriend who was deadpan staring him down. Jesse gulped. This was almost as bad as the time Reyes had caught him skipping out on training so he could catch some sleep in the supply closet.

                “Jesse.”

                “Um, yes sugar?”

                “Are those more cards?”

                “Why, yes. Yes they are sweet pea.”

                “ _Why_ do you have cards up your sleeves Jesse McCree?”

                “Cuz that’s what cowboys do when they go to poker games Hanners.”

Hanzo stared into Jesse’s eyes, not faltering for a moment, making Jesse shift nervously. Then it happened. A small crinkle of the corner of his mouth, followed by a full on wobble of the lower lip. Then, laughter. It caught Jesse so off guard that his mouth fell open softly as Hanzo was engulfed with laughter. Tears were springing in the man’s eyes as he let the card fall to join the others on the floor.

                “You—you cheated!” he hooted. “I can’t believe it! You actually _cheated_ against _yakuza_!”

Jesse slowly began to smile. “I…I guess I did.”

Hanzo wiped the tears from his eyes with a final huff of laughter. But when those eyes caught McCree’s again, they were anything but calm. They flashed with daring and needy. The next thing Jesse knew, Hanzo was tackling into him, whole body, sending both of them sprawling back onto the bed, the piles of yen flopping up with the movement of the bed, sending a blizzard of money into the air. Jesse was effectively pinned under the archer, a knee on either side of his hips as Hanzo craned over him, face inches away. His eyes were mischievous and it sent a delightful shutter down the length of Jesse’s body.

                “I have never met anyone quite so daring as you,” Hanzo murmured with affection that Jesse was not used to hearing, let alone from Hanzo. His boyfriend was usually reserved and stoic. This was indeed quite the change.

The cowboy managed a smirk. “Does that excite you Hanzo?” He felt the cockiness bubbling up inside him, only to be fully ignited when his metal hand soothed down Hanzo’s side to his hips, ducking between them to find the answer he was looking for. Jesse made a pleased sound and rubbed his fingers over what he could reach. Another shiver traveled down him when he saw Hanzo’s pupil’s dilate slightly and the biting into of his lower lip.

                “Jesse—“

Jesse was already leaning forward, burying his face in Hanzo’s neck, inhaling his wonderful smell, pushing his hair aside to get an obstructed kiss to the pale flesh there. “Yeah Hanners?” he breathed against his skin. He was starting to get worked up. But they hadn’t ever--

                “Go—go get the box.”

Jesse raised his head up so he could stare at his boyfriend. “The box?”

                “The one that was outside the door—not the Gucci one, the _other_ one.”

Hanzo rolled off of him, allowing Jesse to hesitantly stand. He adjusted the front of his suit slacks as he walked, incredibly uncomfortable because of the strain there. The Gucci box had been pulled inside the door but not unpacked in their jubilation over the poker victory. The smaller box had went unnoticed by Jesse, so he was immediately curious as to what was inside, especially when Hanzo hissed at him to hurry up. It was an ordinary brown box, no logos like the Gucci box had, only a mailing address of where it needed to go, and a couple stamps on it in kanji he couldn’t read. A knife was produced to cut open the excessive amounts of tape binding it shut, and once open only revealed a sea of packing peanuts.

                “Dig for it,” Hanzo called from the bed. “It’s another birthday present for you.”

That got Jesse moving. Flicking peanuts out of the way he found two things at the bottom of the box. The first, upon a quick observation was a small tube he couldn’t read in the dim light. The other…

The box dropped forgotten to the floor when Jesse pulled the present in question out. He could hear a satisfied chuckle from the bed but he wasn’t paying attention. The other thing, was a strap of black leather, with holes poked uniformly on one side while at the front was a shiny red ball and in the back was a sliver buckle. Jesse felt his entire face heat up as he examined the object in his hands, full well knowing what it was.

                “Han—“

When he turned to look, he saw his boyfriend sprawled out on the bed, surrounded by pillows, plush sheets, and yen. The front of his shirt kyudo-gi had been popped open, revealing the sculpted chest Jesse loved and part of the tattoo of his left arm. Mouth dry, Jesse couldn’t make any words.

With a waggle of a finger, Hanzo summoned him. “Come here and get your birthday present.”

Jesse had never hopped to it faster in his life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you hate me right now? Ha. 
> 
> Next chapter is going to have explicit sexy time between the archer and cowboy. Hope y'all are ready. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK. Sorry this took so long. Life happened.   
> This is the NSFW chapter (aka where they finally bang). ;) Have some honey-nut-feelios.
> 
> As a note, I wrote Jesse's dialogue a bit different in the chapter. I will MOST LIKELY be going back and editing the previous 10 chapters AT SOME POINT for just overall edits as well as altering how he talks. I've been RPing with a friends and how she writes Jesse rubbed off HELLA on me. I'll let y'all know when The Big Edit happens. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for being patient with me. Hope you all enjoy.

Jesse crossed the space as he were a magnet drawn to metal. One knee after the other hit the bed, the cowboy crawling carefully overtop his boyfriend who was watching his every move like a hawk.

_A marble god._

The phrase came to Jesse’s mind as he surveyed the body shifting almost nervously below him. His pale skin was not perfect by any means—it was marred by scars of various lengths and deepness all over—but between the crisp line of his jaw, the setting of his high cheek bones, and the wonderful jut up of his collarbone Hanzo looked he was chiseled from stone. Eager hands pushed the silky fabric off of Hanzo’s frame fully so he could lean down to kiss at the dip between the plush pecs. Hanzo gave the softest sigh when the petal soft lips began pressing against his skin; the whole situation was both too much and not enough at the same time.

                “Darlin’…yer so beautiful,” Jesse murmured. “T’ think y’ would go buy this all fer me…” Kisses were dropped on Hanzo’s chest like a light rain. A brush of lips against the clavicle, more to the swell of his always hidden pec, a flurry across his shoulders and up his neck.

Teeth grazed across his smooth jaw on their way up to the sharp cheekbone. Hanzo shifted under the attention, drawing one of his legs up to try and hide himself only for Jesse to push it back down gently but firmly. The archer had expected perhaps a rush of lust, a shove to the bed, a quick mount…not tender swipes of finger’s across his cheeks, sweet kisses finally— _finally­­--_ connecting with his own lips.

                “Jesse…” Almost more than the caresses, Hanzo was surprised how cracked his own voice already sounded. What was it about the feather light touches that was making him feel like his skin was electric? His lover dipped his head down from his lips to his neck, alternating between long languid kisses and the smallest little nips. “ _Jesse_.”

                “That’s right…” came a soft growl, “keep sayin’ my name sugar.” Hanzo tossed his head back against the pillows. Despite Jesse’s predatory tone, he did not change his pace or tactic. The slow pace was making Hanzo want to thrash in desperation. More! More! The archer wanted to yell. And by the glint in McCree’s eyes, he had only just begun. Thick fingers carded through Hanzo’s hair that had spilled out all over the pillows like ink. “Yer hair is so soft.” He brought some of the strands up to press to his nose and then to hip lips to kiss.

                “It is…nothing special,” Hanzo insisted. His cheeks were starting to warm under all the attention that was being doted on him.

Jesse pressed down on him heavier. “Hogwash. I’ve felt _silk_ rougher than yer hair, Love. God, you’re so perfect.”  Hanzo gasped when he felt hands come up to grope at his chest—a moan ripping from his mouth as his pecs were pressed and massaged together in drawn out motions. “Yer so perfect, nobody else can even hope t’ compare.”

The blush blooming rapidly on the ex-yakuza’s cheeks was a charming color, Jesse thought to himself. A flash of desire ran through him to paint Hanzo’s entire body that same color. And _that_ became his mission. The cowboy continued to knead Hanzo’s chest—an obviously sensitive spot judging from his quiet moans—sometimes his thumb jutting out to graze over the dusty pink nipples. The first time he rubbed one Hanzo’s entire body jolted and he gave a moan that shot clear down Jesse’s body to pool in his abdomen. It didn’t take long for them to perk up into little pink nubs, perfect for Jesse’s thumb to slide over slowly. Then he got the devilish idea to pinch one between his index finger and thumb. Hanzo arched with a delightful gasp that had Jesse purring.

                “Y’ like that baby?” He continued the motion, able to clearly see the reaction it brought out in his lover as Hanzo’s mouth dropped open with moans and his lower back arched off the mattress. “Mmm, y’ do~” he purred.

                “Jesse please—“

                “Oh, we ain’t even close t’ bein’ done.”

Anticipation flared in Hanzo. Jesse left Hanzo’s pecs to kiss Hanzo slowly and deliberately on the mouth. And while the motion was sweet, overflowing with care, Hanzo was practically crawling out his skin wanting more. Faster. Harder. The whiskey smooth voice calling him every endearment in his southern vocabulary was arousing him like he hadn’t been in a long while. Two sets of hands curled into the sheets, one for support, one for something to cling to as Jesse left his mouth and trailed kisses downward. Down the chin, neck, over Adam’s apple, down the sternum, over to the never hidden nipple while a hand came up to tweak its twin. Hanzo downright whimpered, sending another jolt through his boyfriend.

A growl came from Jesse, but he continued uninterrupted. The tip of Jesse’s tongue lapped eagerly at the perk bud, raising it to the stiffest peak he could manage before swapping to the other nipple. Meanwhile Hanzo bucked under him whilst moaning hotly. All the noises were quickly becoming too much for Jesse who, if not for being unwilling to leave Hanzo’s nipple, wanted to palm himself through his slacks. Both archer and gunslinger were straining in their confines. Not wanting to chafe him however, Jesse eventually moved on, trailing lips lower down the middle of Hanzo’s stomach, stopping to dip down into his navel.

                “Ever think of getting a piercing fer yer belly?” Jesse teased once he removed his tongue. He didn’t wait for a reply. He traveled further down, this time along the angle of his hip, following along the V shaped dip, ending just above the prize. Only then did the cowboy show hesitation. “Is this ok darlin’? If y’ say no I’ll sto—“

                “Do not stop!” The words erupted from Hanzo as a blurted out whine, as though he were truly horrified that he might actually stop.

Hanzo felt the rumble go through Jesse more than he heard it. The slightly older man felt himself lifted slightly, just enough to remove his robe completely and toss it off the bed. Eager. That’s what he expected of Jesse. Instead, he was graced by the same slow movements as fingers hooked in his undergarments and pulled them down slowly, wiggling them down off of his legs before being discarded out of Hanzo’s sight. The look of appraisal sent a shiver down Hanzo’s body, every hair standing on edge, back arched slightly, arms coming to cross over his exposed chest while his cock gave an interested bob. Jesse’s eyes were blown dark with frank interest as he looked him over.

“My dear…my darlin’…my honey…” Hand came up and pulled Hanzo’s arm away from his pecs and down to the bed, effectively pinning him. Lips returned to Hanzo’s throat, making him whine, especially when he felt the tongue dart out to press against his pulse. “Yer the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” Each sentence was punctuated with a deep kiss to the skin, a nip, or a suck, and all three had Hanzo thrashing in pleasure under the body above him. “Yer eyes…more beautiful than any gem…Your lips softer than any flower…So kissable…So warm…”

“Jesse, please… _stop teasing me—_ “

The dark eyes glanced up through lashes at the Japanese. “Oh sweetness, y’ have no idea how much I love hearin’ y’ speak like that t’ me.” The kisses turned into full on bites and sucks. Hanzo threw back his head, giving Jesse more access. “It sounds so pretty comin’ from y’. Not that I know what y’ say…” Under Jesse’s mouth bruises of love and passion bloomed on Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo had just glanced down to make eye contact when Jesse looked up from leaving a particularly large hickey just above where his collar would hide. He bared his teeth slightly, giving Hanzo a sense of being stared down by a large predator. And if _that_ wasn’t exciting. “ _Mine.”_

                “Ah~” The first loud whine Hanzo gave. His blush had traveled down his chest, but with the man on top him he couldn’t hide the reaction the possessive growl had brought forth.

                “Fuck—“ Jesse surged up and crashed their mouths together. A persistent tongue poked through the seam of Hanzo’s mouth, and Hanzo opened up eagerly, to slide his one against the other. Soft moans came from both men, small testament to how pent up each of them were, and how much they desired the other. If both had day dreamed about this sort of situation, neither would admit it. “I’m a’ make y’ feel good Han,” Jesse gasped out when he finally pulled away from Hanzo’s puffy and kiss ravaged lips.

He trailed downwards again, this time skipping down directly to Hanzo’s pelvis. His hands pushed Hanzo’s thighs wide open so he could position his torso more comfortably between them. Kisses were pressed into the hip bones before Jesse hovered his mouth just over the tip of Hanzo’s already leaking cock. There was the briefest of pauses where Hanzo grasped what was about to happen before those lips that had just been on his was stretching around him. The noise Hanzo made was torn between surprise and pleasure, and McCree _loved_ it. It had been years since Jesse had put his mouth on anyone like this, but that hadn’t mean he had forgotten how to go about it. The cowboy set a slow pace, inching his lips lower and lower, relishing the symphony of whines erupting from his lover, while suckling Hanzo’s cock. All Hanzo could hope to do was hang on as Jesse went to town swallowing around him. Hanzo’s entire body was shaking slightly, his fingers curling into the sheets so they wouldn’t grab too painfully at Jesse’s hair.

                “Jesse, _god damn_ , that feels— _fuck---! That feels good—“_ Hanzo panted, pawing at the sheets desperately.

His partner moaned around him, enjoying the praise. He continued sucking, loving the sloppy wet sounds that were being made from the spit coating Hanzo’s cock. He took him from tip to root in slow, deliberate bobs, all the while licking the thick vein running under his lover’s cock, sending an additional shiver up Hanzo’s body. If Jesse hadn’t given head in years, it was even longer since Hanzo had been on the receiving end; he would never admit to Jesse, but while the cowboy made a slow pass down to press his nose in the curls at the base of his cock, Hanzo quickly tried to think if Yoshi had ever done this for him.

The elder Shimada knew the precipice of orgasm had been approaching, but when he looked down and saw the large man that was his boyfriend with his cheeks hallowed around him and looking up through dark lashes, his orgasm claimed him. It was quick, he could admit. But Jesse had been teasing him so bad…Jesse had felt the telltale twitch in his mouth of impending orgasm, and had received only the shortest notice in verbal warning before Hanzo was tipping over the edge with a pleasured howl. The cowboy grimaced at the salty, bitter taste but drank it down, eager to please his lover.

And pleased he was. The orgasm had taken him by surprise—like electricity springing free and spreading violently through his body—and the fact Jesse had drank him down made him whimper. He panted hard as he came down, his breath only hitching when the mouth popped off him.

                “That good?” Jesse inquired, although the cocky smile said he _knew_ he had been amazing. He wiped of his mouth on the back of his head before sitting back on his heels to admire the view. Hanzo was absolutely breathtaking; his hair was fanned out across the pillows, skin flushed and dotted with sweat, eyes were hazily regarding him, mouth open in hungry pants, arms up above his head, and legs falling open limply. Jesse licked his lips openly. And Hanzo didn’t fail to notice. “Keep yer legs open like a good boy.”

Hanzo moaned softly but obeyed, eyes never leaving Jesse as he climbed off the bed. He watched as Jesse slowly popped the buttons on his dress shirt, pushing the fabric down his arms to pool on the floor, revealing a thick torso covered in dark hair and scars. Hanzo’s breath hitched. He was _gorgeous_. Those fingers moved on with prompting to the button on his pants. The button was slow to yield, but eventually it was popped, and soon after came the hiss of the zipper being pulled down and the swish of the trousers coming off and down Jesse’s thick legs. Like how Jesse openly ogled Hanzo, Hanzo did the same. But Jesse shied away in a different way that had Hanzo frowning.

                “What is the matter?”

Jesse gave a sheepish chuckle, carding a hand through his messy locks while glancing away from Hanzo’s inquisitive gaze. “Well, t’ be honest I’m a little…embarrassed.”

That got Hanzo’s attention. “Embarrassed?” he echoed.

                “Well…yeah. There you are, looking like a statue that’s on display at t’ museum…and then there’s me,” he said a little sadly.

If Hanzo hadn’t been left boneless by Jesse’s earlier work, he would have surged up at the comment. Instead his brows furrowed together. “Yes, you. I chose _you_.” His hands came up, fingers just able to skirt across Jesse’s furry stomach. It was true, he wasn’t as lean as Hanzo, but Jesse looked soft and healthy. And it made Hanzo feel warm.

And he said as much to his lover who sighed in relief. “I dunno what I did t’ deserve y’,” he said, gaze soft. “Yer an angel.” Socks came next along with the much anticipated boxers.

Hanzo’s breath hitch was loud when Jesse finally sprang free. Of course he had seen it before—barbell and every inch—but against the rest of Jesse’s naked form it seemed far larger and formidable than it had all that time ago in the Comm Tower.

Jesse noticed the stare and shifted nervously. “Havin’ second thoughts darlin’?”

The archer was quick to shake his head. “Just…admiring.” He shifted his legs apart while flicking his head to the abandon box on the floor. “Lube…?”

Jesse hopped off the bed just long enough to grab the box. Upon closer inspection of the tube that had been in the box, he discovered it was indeed a bottle of lube. He held it and the ball gag in his hands for a moment, admiring them both, before replacing the gag back in the box and setting it aside. When he returned without the toy, Hanzo perked up.

                “What about the—“

Jesse slid on top of him, lube in hand. He pressed a quick kiss to those warm, pliant lips before drawing back. “Not that I dun like the present, but I wanna hear all yer nice noises my dear.” He kissed again before drawing back to open the lube. “I’ll use it another time, but right now…” Hanzo whimpered eagerly as the tube was popped open, and Jesse spread a liberal amount on his fingers. As worked up and ready to go as Jesse was, he kept it in the forefront of his mind that it had been a long while since Hanzo had done this…he needed something slow, not a wild fuck.

The first finger slid across Hanzo’s exposed entrance was a warning of what was to come. It wasn’t a surprise when Hanzo tensed. A kiss was placed on his temple to try and ease him.

                “It’s gonna feel weird—“

                “I know—“

                “Are you ready—“

                “ _Yes. Please. I want—“_

The Japanese sounded pretty and entirely rushed. Jesse pressed his finger into the tight entrance. Slow and steadily inching in while he searched Hanzo’s face for any signs of any abnormal discomfort.

                “That’s it sugar…you’re doing great.”

                “Mmmmm--!”

The probing was slow and consistent, a contrast to the sporadic whines coming from Hanzo. Jesse continued, ignoring his own need until one finger became two, and two fingers became three. “Are y’ ready darlin’? Cuz I can’t hold out much longer—“

Nails clawed at his shoulders. “Now. _Now_!”

Jesse didn’t waste any time. “Anythin’ fer y’—“ The cowboy supported himself with one arm on the sheets beside Hanzo while the other took his cock in hand and line it up with Hanzo’s entrance. Slowly he pushed into the wet heat and—“ _Fuck---_ Hanners, baby doll—“ Jesse hissed, throwing his head back as he sank in. Inch by inch rolled into the archer until McCree was fully seated in him. The sensation of being surrounded by tight warmth was making his head spin. And the moans Hanzo was making was enough to make Jesse’s head swim.

Hanzo’s toes curled forcefully into the sheets beneath him. It was so much. Sensations he hadn’t felt in years came surging back powerfully. But it was more than merely being filled. When Hanzo finally opened his eyes and let out the breath he had been holding onto initially, he was greeted by stern concentration in Jesse’s gaze, furrowed brows—a man painstakingly doing a duty. But despite the concentration, in those brown eyes there was nothing but love and compassion—something that had never been in Yoshi’s eyes he realized in retrospect. He could see the unwavering love in Jesse’s expression that was dissolving from concentration to smitten, and it made his heart flutter in a way it never had. Perhaps he was being too romantic, but the mission had all but faded away into obscurity; all that mattered to Hanzo in those moments, was that he was there, alive, and with a man he never wanted to be apart from.

Hanzo almost whimpered when he realized Jesse hadn’t begun to move. “Move you fool. I am not made of porcelain.”

And he did. It started like much else that night, slowly, a drag back of the hips, then a slow push forward. When Hanzo moaned in appreciation Jesse picked up the pace. Everything started carefully. Hanzo could see Jesse shaking ever so slightly, holding back.

The archer tensed his muscles inside, making Jesse give out a choked out breath. “Faster!”

The growl the vibrated out of the larger man sent delighted chills down Hanzo’s body. The pace took off, the hips no longer holding back as they snapped forward. Each thrust had Jesse bottoming out with Hanzo. His large hands were curled into the sheets behind Hanzo’s head at first, but slowly tangled into Hanzo hair in a borderline painful away. With hips still snapping forward Jesse connected their mouths hungrily, only to pull away panting heavily. Hanzo was in no better shape. They were a mass of tangled limbs as the pace kept up, each doing their best to pleasure the other while showing their dedication their partner. Both were rocketing towards their ends, and both were aware without the need for words.     

                “You’re doing so good Hanzo~” Jesse purred brokenly. He wished he could last longer in his boyfriend, but given the circumstances, Jesse couldn’t be happier.

 Their mouth met again in a sloppy dance that had Hanzo arching of the bed and panting and whining. Hanzo hadn’t been lying when he said he was noisy; it was an endless symphony of cries, whines, grunts, moans, and purrs coming from Hanzo, and it was driving Jesse mad with lust. Jesse was glad he hadn’t decided to muffle him and miss out on hearing each of those delightful noises.

Jesse was panting hard when he asked, “Ya close?”

Words failed Hanzo. If it wasn’t the thrusts sending him spiraling close to the edge, it was the smooth southern twang. He nodded vigorously, his pace that had been meeting Jesse’s perfectly until then stuttering. The detail wasn’t lost on Jesse. With the rhythm faltering on Hanzo’s part, it soon fell into ruin entirely. Both were rutting up against the other, both whining and whimpering, one in Spanish, and the other in Japanese.

                “Come fer me Hanzo.”

It was a deep thrust of Jesse’s that did them in. It grazed something in Hanzo with the piercing and Hanzo was giving a startled cry and spilling as orgasm overtook him. His vision blurred in the intensity of it, whole body tensing up and clamping down around Jesse. Jesse felt the heat pull him in sharply and gave a choked moan, his hips finally failing him, pressed flush with Hanzo’s as his own orgasm was ripped from him. He spilled into Hanzo rope after rope, and in felt _divine_ , as if it were meant to be.

For several minutes the only sounds filling the room were their tired pants as they tried to catch their breath. Jesse collapsed off to the side once he pulled out as to not squish his boyfriend, and Hanzo found the power in him to roll onto his side to curl against Jesse’s side. It was a while before either spoke.

                “Good?”

Hanzo hummed. “More than good.”

Jesse beamed as he wiped sweat off his brow. “Damn. A compliment from _the_ Hanzo Shimada. Better write dat one down.” But one look at his face told volumes of the pride he felt. “I’m glad y’ enjoyed yerself.” The comment came right as Jesse was hiking Hanzo’s leg up slightly so he could toy with the cum oozing out of his lover. “Cuz god knows I did.”   


Both were stinky with sweat and cum but neither wanted to move. Jesse was finally the one who got up to get a wet towel to wipe them down with, but they would still need to shower in the morning. When the cowboy finally got back in bed he pulled the sheets over him. Now _that_ felt right. How much had changed from the night before where Hanzo had slept angrily out on the balcony and Jesse had been alone in the large bed. Now Jesse had the small archer curled against him, eyes fluttering and breathing slowing as he began slipping into sleep.

                “Hanzo…I love ya. More than anythin’.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but smile. And when he replied with, “I love you too Jesse”, Jesse thought his heart would burst. Large hairy arms drew Hanzo in close with no chance of letting go. With face in the nape of Hanzo’s neck Jesse fell fast asleep the other not far behind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read end notes. But first enjoy this little chapter first.

Morning came all too soon. As Hanzo slowly came to consciousness, several things became apparent to him. One, he was nice and warm. Two, there was a large cowboy snoring softly next to him, curled up almost in a ball, a blissful look on his face even in sleep. Three, he _hurt._ His back and hips were almost throbbing, and that said nothing for his backside.

The fourth and final realization was that it was not truly the morning light that was brightening the room, but rather a blue glow coming from the tattoo that wound down his left arm. He brought his arm up, examining the glowing blue dragon ink. It wasn’t too unlike the glow of a computer monitor in the dark in its intensity. If his eyes focused hard enough he could almost see the blue spirt dragons coiling around his arm, chirping and hissing like cracks of electricity as they moved. Was it a sign? His arm buzzed with what felt like static electricity, but instead of bringing fear or alarm, it felt almost like a soothing presence---reassuring, protective. Were the dragons pleased? Or was it a warning? The last time they had shown their selves in such a manner was the day that Hanzo had been fated to encounter his brother in Hanamura right as Overwatch was becoming active again. What was in his future that they were presenting themselves?

The archer laid there, worry beginning to bubble up. Tonight was the big night—their reason for coming. They were to attend the party at the Shimada estate as guests of honor, and while he distracted the elders, Jesse was to sneak away and locate schematics for whatever weapon of destruction they possessed that could bring down Overwatch per the Talon documents. Hanzo would rather go as a pair and search—it would be safer in some aspects--but he knew it would be impossible without drawing the attention of every yakuza man in the compound. He would have to put his faith in McCree to be discreet and take care of himself.

 _But can the cowboy be discreet?_ He chuckled inwardly to himself thinking about the normal jingling of his spurs as he would walk around the base.

A transport would be waiting for them not too far from the estate, for a quick getaway once they found what they were looking for. Yet apprehension gnawed at Hanzo. He had been a part of that clan for more years than he had been away; he knew that they were masters of deception. This task Winston and Jack had bestowed upon them was not going to be easy. It hadn’t been easy up until then, and Hanzo had a nagging suspicion there would be a hiccup in their plans that night. But perhaps he was just being negative. Perhaps the showing of his dragons was a good sign.

He had little time to ponder on this suspicion before he was interrupted. At the first signs of his partner waking beside him in the form of a yawn and a stretch, the light began diming until it blinked out entirely. His tattoo looked completely normal by the time Jesse was lifting his head off the pillows. Watching Jesse slowly come to was amusing as well as endearing. The man stretched his arms over his head, hitting his fingers against the headboard before drawing them back, then twisted his body while stretching his legs and toes out, a smile dancing across his lips all the while. His brown eyes slowly blinked at Hanzo before he latched onto him like an oversized octopus.

                “Mornin’. God damn yer a sight for sore eyes darlin’.”

Hanzo gulped a little. McCree’s voice was still laden with sleep, husky from disuse. And its effects on the archer were noticeable. “And you are a silver tongued fox.” He rolled slightly to squeeze closer to his lover, nosing at his jaw as he shoved his head underneath the other man’s chin. “We have a big day ahead of us. We should get up and pack.”

                “Aw, come on, jus’ a couple a’ more minutes?” He returned the embrace with ease, kissing the silver wings framing Hanzo’s face as they resettled under the sheets. “Not every day I get t’ wake up next t’ an angel.”

Hanzo flushed red despite himself. His hands graced across Jesse’s fuzzy pecs, sliding them downwards along his sides until they came to a rest on his hips. The younger man gave a little purr at the motion. “I suppose a couple minutes will be of no consequence,” Hanzo conceded.

The “couple minutes” turned into nearly an hour. Neither drifted back to sleep, instead using the time swapping kisses and trailing hands across warm skin. Both men were incredibly content to stay under the blankets forever, that is, until Hanzo’s phone began ringing across the room.

                “Dun answer it,” McCree huffed, sounding more like a child than a man quickly approaching forty. “Stay—“

Hanzo however was already untangling himself from the mess of limbs and was exiting the bed. He strode over the mess of yen that was still littered about, going over to where he had left his phone.

                “We’re being hailed by Gibraltar,” Hanzo announced.

He rummaged through their luggage for pants and shirts—Jesse’s being thrown at the man’s face that was still in bed. Jesse grumbled and pulled himself finally from the warmth of the bed to dress and rake his hand through his hair to make it look like they didn’t just have a wild night. Hanzo swept the remaining yen off the bed, hoping Winston wouldn’t notice from a distance that it was all over the floor. It took a minute for them to make the room and themselves look presentable, but they managed. With the push of a button the call was transferred to the screen in front of them, revealing a very silver looking Jack Morrison, not the scientist they had been expecting. His blurry gray eyes glared at them. It was still night time in Gibraltar, and Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder why their commander was up at such an hour. Had he truly stayed up just to make this call in Japan’s morning time? The dark bags under Jack’s eyes seemed painfully familiar to Hanzo, a testament to ghosts of the soldier’s past as well as the burdens of the day.

                “Good morning Agent McCree, Agent Shimada.” Jack’s voice was stern, crisp, trained in a way that spoke of his leader experience. Despite looking tired he never seemed more awake.

                “Commander Morrison.” The title was a rather empty one if all truth be told. Jack Morrison had led Overwatch before it was disbanded and destroyed. He returned to Winston’s summons under the alias ‘Soldier 76’, and had the intention of being just that—a soldier. But it had proved impossible for old members to _not_ follow him, and Winston had desperately needed the help, especially after the Talon assault on the Gibraltar base.

The much older man regarded them both from behind thin rimmed reading glasses. In his hands were several papers that he was thumbing though. “I take it yesterday went well.”

Hanzo spoke up. “I spoke with Winston last night,” he said, matching the tone. “I was able to solidify an alliance with the Shimada-gumi, and we were invited back for a banquet party tonight.”

                “Excellent—“

McCree grinned at the Commander, cutting in with, “An’ I got us a buncha money.”

Jack raised his eyebrow at that but didn’t comment. “And you are attending the banquet, correct? What is your game plan?”

                “To infiltrate again as Aaya and the bodyguard Eric, mingle for most of the night—“

                “An’ at some point I need t’ sneak away and look fer the weapon—or the schematics,” Jesse added.

                “You make it sound like a simple task,” their commander noted. “It will be anything but, I assure you—especially since Hanzo can’t carry a weapon in there.” The gray blue eyes held warning when they locked with Jesse’s brown ones, enough to make the cowboy gulp. “If you take a wrong step…Hanzo will have no means to defend himself. You understand that, don’t you?” It would be normal for a body guard to have a weapon, but…

Hanzo glanced at Jesse. There was a nervous flicker in the younger man’s eyes, but he still held that grin on his face. “I wouldn’t dream of puttin’ ‘im in danger. I’ll be in and out before they know I’m there.”

Jack nodded. Whether he believed Jesse’s word wasn’t discussed. The trio spoke for a while longer about the layout of the estate and likely hiding places of the weapon schematics. Jack and Hanzo agreed that they probably didn’t have the weapon assembled yet—or else they would have used it already, and McCree, although not entirely convinced, could see the logic in it. And, Hanzo reasoned, if they were looking for weapon documents that could bring down an enemy of the Shimada, they would probably keep it in a vault.

                “There is a vault,” Hanzo said, bringing up a map of the estate and tapping a lower level. “It’s back here. It’s no so heavily guarded because it is in the heart of the clan. Why bother putting extra guards there when you could scatter them throughout? My guess is that they are locked up in there along with many other of our--- _their_ secrets.”

Jack nodded. “Then Jesse, that’s where you need to go.”

                “And…” Jesse licked his lips in a nervous way, “what if they aren’t there? Then what?”

                “Then you get the hell out,” Commander Morrison said firmly. “If that is indeed where _all_ the important documents and such are…there is grave danger in dallying. In and out.”

Jesse nodded. He had been on tons of missions between Blackwatch and Overwatch. But none ever had such importance. His success or failure of being able to slip in and out undetected would effect the lives of everyone in Overwatch; if he failed there would be no trying again. “You can count on me.”

                “If you have no further questions,” Jack said, trailing off, “I am finishing with the details of the transport. It will be awaiting you between midnight and one o’ clock Hanamura time. If you do not show up before then…it will be assumed your mission was a failure.”

Hanzo nodded. To Jesse he seemed so put together, not at all looking as nervous as Jesse was feeling. “Understood. We will no fail you Commander Morrison.”

The Commander chuckled. “You would have made a good soldier, Shimada. Morrison out.”

The link cut out with a beep, leaving the two agents in silent. Jesse immediately slumped forward and gave a loud exhale, unaware he had been holding his breath. He watched as Hanzo very slowly came out of a state of attention, legs bending more, shoulders slouching, eyes blinking; it was like watching a machine slowly coming to life.

 _Jack is right. He would make a good soldier._ The man was intelligent, obedient, and lethal. Overwatch was lucky to half such a skilled man fighting for them.

                “Hey…” Jesse turned and took Hanzo’s hand, gently guiding Hanzo into his chest. The shorter man blinked up at him in confusion but didn’t fight being moved. The cowboy gulped nervously as he stared down into those almost golden eyes. “I…” How could he put his feelings into words? There they were right in his throat, but he couldn’t get them out. “I…I’m not going t’ let y’ down,” he said finally.

Hanzo stared up at him. “Jesse?”

                “It’s my job to keep y’ safe tonight…” he elaborated. “T’ get in an’ out before they find us out. Jack’s right. If they catch me, you’re as good as dead, Han.” He tightened his hold on the archer, clinging to him, the thought of losing his comrade, his friend, his boyfriend, being unbearable. “I’m not going t’ let y’ down.”

Hanzo had been silent while he listened. He could hear the passion mixed with the fear. A promise. He gave a slight smile and squeezed back. “Then you better be quick.” He leaned up and pressed their mouths together, both ignoring that Hanzo had to lift onto his toes to do so. “Do not keep me waiting, Cowboy.”

Jesse grinned as he looped his arms around Hanzo’s hips, leaning into kiss back. His words were barely a murmur in the quiet of the morning. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Archer.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I know you're all probably shocked because it hasn't been more than a month since I updated! I was just kind of "feeling it" and was able to hash out this chapter pretty quick. This chapter was meant as a bridge between the last chapter and the real action because I felt like jumping straight into the action would be awkward. 
> 
> Also, head canon about the dragons. They can manifest if they wish, either in the form of his ult when he calls up, or as the noodle dragons that we have come to love on tumblr. Hanzo and Genji named theirs as children, Hanzo naming his Soba and Udon while Genji named his Mochi. After Hanzo killed Genji, his dragons would not come to his call--too distressed over the lost of their other (green) brother. The first time they return is shortly before Genji and Hanzo face off in Hanamura. They can't see the future, but they can get a sense of it--good or bad for their owner. Either way, that's just me, derping around with dragons. I'm sure the naming of them isn't unique, but I can't tell you where I first heard them named those names were---it's just ingrained in me now. 
> 
> As a note, PLEASE READ THE CHAPTER NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT CHAPTER OR TWO, AS WELL AS THE TAGS. There is going to be some sensitive content that I am still working out, and I don't want anyone to read something that makes them really uncomfortable. I haven't decided if the next chapter is just going to be REALLY big, or I'm going to divide it into two parts. (I might do the latter) Regardless, there is going to be some explicit material coming up due to them being on mission as well as Yoshi being....well, himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has taken so long, a lot of changes have happened in my personal life, so I haven't been able to sit and focus on my more serious of my two fics (my goofy one being my MUA Genji fic). 
> 
> This chapter is not the one where that needs any sort of tag update, that will more than likely be my next chapter. This one is just a little aside that I wrote in to help with the sequel I'm planning. The next chapter will be back to the mission in Hanamura. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your patience, reviews, kudos, and support!

Overwatch only recruited the smartest, toughest sons of bitches the world had to offer. Each member was highly skilled or gifted in some aspect, making them perfect additions to their dream team roster. Jack Morrison was no different. He had joined the original Overwatch during the Omnic Crisis, and after finishing boot camp and SEP training, he finally got his boots in the dirt. Every step had been hell from beginning to the end, and for a while he had thought that it had all been worth it. There was something about being able to report back to his parents back in Indiana that he had saved people that always made him swell with pride. The war was won—although technically a standstill where both sides got too tired to continue to formally fight. The Indiana native could recall with the utmost clarity the day his Overwatch crew had flown to Switzerland to receive their medals for their continuous involvement in the war efforts. It had been a large hullaballoo—streamers, confetti, everyone decked out in crisp blue Overwatch suits…

He could also remember the heat licking up the sides of his face from the explosion that was set off a couple floors below him. He could remember the sound of thousands of windows shattering all at once, of the metal frame of the building creaking and twisting, the screams of the innocents caught in the blast. But perhaps he would remember, above all else, the completely deadpan stare he had received from his second in command as their world went up in flames around them.

                _See you in hell Morrison._

Jack sat at his desk after hanging up with Hanzo and Jesse, fingers laced together in front of him while his elbows dug into the edges of the desk. His office was rather Spartan in design, room for a desk, his chair, two chairs along the wall, and a wall long bookcase packed with documents regarding Overwatch and Talon. The only two personal effects in the room were both pictures, one of the entire Overwatch team from back in the day, the other of his younger self wedged in between two old friends.

 ‘Soldier 76’ was a very different person than Commander Jack Morrison from back in the hey-day of Overwatch. His vision wasn’t what it used to be—between aging and the blast at the Swiss HQ, Jack needed to wear glasses or his visor constantly, or else everything was just a series of blurred colors. He was a little shorter than he once had been, and his back had to have a small metal support brace to keep him active in the field and to keep him from continuously slouching at his desk. His once blonde hair was completely silver and white, his eyes no longer blue but a dreary gray, and he had more scars that crisscrossed his body than he did even while getting the shit kicked out of him during his SEP days.

But it wasn’t just his body that had changed during the lull in Overwatch activity. Commander Jack Morrison had been a proud leader, able to rally the troops with passionate speeches, his physical and mental stability to be the stuff of legends—even if behind closed doors the later didn’t hold up to the stories. He had been easily approachable by his staff, even earning him the playful title of ‘Commander Dad’ by some of the younger recruits such as Lena and Jesse. But the years after the blast proved to be a changing experience. Thought dead for many years, the man lived in insolation; he never stayed in one place for long, only long enough to pick up some odd jobs for cash and to attempt to find clue to who was _truly_ behind the downfall off Overwatch. If he was being honest with himself, the downfall had been a long time in the making. Arguments exploding into brawls, botched missions more often than not—it was a miracle Overwatch and Russian forces hadn’t been decimated by Omnics during the Battle of Volskya. There had been plenty of warning signs in retrospect. And Jack blamed himself for not acting on them. Now back at Overwatch as a commander if only in name besides the brains of Winston, Jack was determined more than ever to find out who hammered the final nail on Overwatch’s coffin.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he slid back in his desk chair. This mission in Hanamura was putting him on edge. He hated sending in squads of less than six, and for them to be in a den of dangerous yakuza only put further stress on him. Hanzo was a capable fighter and knew the estate better than anyone, and McCree was a charmer and a smooth talker, so together they should make the perfect team for such a task. But still. Stakes were high. He reached for the folder containing photocopies of the documents found in the bust on the Talon site, the Japanese having been translated for easy reading.

                “A weapon that could destroy Overwatch huh?”

Did Talon truly need a weapon? They had done a good job last time, pitting his own teammates against one another. Why would they need such a weapon to destroy them a second time? Perhaps they believed the same tactics would not work again. Jack tried not to let his heart beat too fast—knowing Hanzo and Jesse would soon be in the final and most dangerous part of the mission was enough to make him almost dizzy with fretful anticipation. Despite a rocky start when Hanzo had joined (mainly in which he ignored and avoided McCree like a nasty old cat with strangers in the house) the two seemed amicable now. Hanzo’s serious demeanor went strangely well with the goofiness that emanated from every pore the cowboy had. They had some sort of friendly chemistry going that was certainly working in their favor. It was almost painfully familiar.

But if the duo was caught now…

                “Jack?” Angela’s voice drifted through the metal sliding doors of the room.

                “Enter.”

The doors opened with a hiss revealing the blonde haired medic. For as much as Jack had changed over the years, she looked just as flawless as she had in her youth despite nearing almost forty. Her blue eyes were bright and cheery as she swept into the room, clad in white pencil skirt and button up blouse, heeled boots clicking as she walked. In her hands she carried a tray with a tea kettle on it, two cups, and a pourer for cream and a dish of sugar cubes.

                “I had a feeling you were still up.”

 _Up? Oh, of course._ Outside the office windows lay the darkness of the night. “I was on call with Shimada and McCree…I need to arrange a transport for them—“

Angela sat the tea tray down—having had to clear a spot amongst paperwork--and sat across from him on the opposite side of the desk. “You do not _still_ have to be awake Jack,” she said matter-of-factly as she poured them each a cup of hot tea. Her face was gentle, her smile small. _The perfect image of an angel._ “You’ve been having trouble sleeping again, haven’t you?”

He snorted, although he accepted the cup when she offered it. The heat radiating through the ceramic felt good against his aging, aching hands. “When haven’t I.” Jack had had fitful nights since he got his first ‘super serum’ injection years ago.

The medic made a snorting kind of sound as she poured cream into her tea. “It’s true, you always were _restless_ , but…you’re a commander again, you can’t afford not to try and sleep. Have you been taking the pills I prescribed to you?”

Jack thought slightly guiltily about the sill full bottle of sleeping pills in his desk. He had nearly collapsed from exhaustion one day and Angela had said enough was enough and given him the bottle. “I—“

                “You need your rest, just like any other person,” she stated. She added two sugar cubes to her tea before stirring. Jack did the same, forgoing the cream. “Lack of sleep will affect your judgement, as well as ruin your body.”

 _You need your sleep cariño._                    

                “I know that.”                    

                “Then after you are done with your tea, you shall go to bed. I will escort you if need be.”

 The very thought of the small doctor trying to strong arm the soldier into doing anything was borderline comical. The black tea tasted sweet on his lips, and warm as it traveled down his chest. “Getting on my case while you are still awake making tea is hypocritical,” he pointed out.  

Jack was waved off. “I was cleaning up from having to adjust some of Genji’s wiring—one had gotten a little frayed. I will be heading to bed soon. So no excuses.”

It felt nice—not that Jack would admit it—to be up drinking tea in the middle of the night with an old friend. How many times had they done just this when he was still the world renowned Commander Morrison? The conversations—aside from medical concerns—were never gloomy back in those days, mainly talking about silly things that happened throughout the day, the latest gossip, although sometimes there would be discussions about certain _people_. How many times had Angela listened to him rant and rave over a cup of tea about that bone headed bastard Ga—

                “Agents Shimada and Agent McCree—“

                “Are both seasoned fighters,” Angela said. “They will be fine and check in when they can.” She sipped her tea delicately, regarding Jack from over the lip of the cup. “We will summon you if we need you. You don’t have to do everything yourself Jack. We’re a team.”

_We’re a team boyscout! Act like it!_

Jack waved off the dizzy feeling that came over him. He really did need sleep—anything to get that voice out of his head. Angela, as if sensing his unease, began talking about the procedure with Genji. It wasn’t something she hadn’t done a hundred times before, but to Jack it was soothing. Something positive and methodical to draw himself out of his head. Despite a rough start years ago when the boy had been nothing but and angry firecracker, Genji had quickly became a valuable ally and a good friend—something akin to a son or nephew, not unlike Lena and Jesse, and more recently Lucio and Hana.

 By the time the tea had been drank and cleaned up, Angela was walking Jack back to his bunk, pill bottle in hand. She bid his goodnight before disappearing down the hall, leaving him to disrobe, shuck off his boots. At his vanity he looked at the empty glass sitting beside the sink, as well as the bottle in his hand. It took several minutes of internal struggle before he finally filled the glass and chugged down the small pill. He wandered over to his bed. Jack laid there for a minute, barely having time to register what the clock was displaying, wondering how long it would take before he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright--it's time! It's time for the party!(finally). I decided to break the party up into 2 chapters. My reason being is there is some sort-of dub con in the next chapter, along with some real violence, and if people wanted to skip that, i wanted them to be able to. This chapter is full of drinking, an almost prostitute, and more spy stuff. I hope you all enjoy it! If there is anything that you want me to tag relating to this chapter or the next, please feel free to tell me. I try to think of anything that I need to tag before I post it, but you never know. 
> 
> Also as a note, anything Yoshi or Hanzo say in italics (so most of their dialogue) is meant to be read as Japanese. Poor Jesse!

Complete opulence.

Through a patch work of details weaved throughout stories Genji had told during Blackwatch of his youth within the yakuza family, Jesse had been able to come up with _some_ inkling of how the Shimadas conducted themselves. They were hard set in their ways, their family line steeped in traditions going back hundreds of years. They were proud, especially of their status as Japan’s most powerful yakuza group, and beyond prideful of their dragons—a tale (and a reality as Jesse found out when he met Hanzo) that shaped their beliefs and history. They ruled Hanamura from the shadows, their web of influence deep within the local police, as well as in a good portion of the businesses; one would be hard pressed to find someone in the town who had no connection to the crime lords.

And they were all about maintaining appearances.

It was crucial that their friends and allies were taken care of, that a façade of extreme opulence was put on so people believed the Shimada were always on top, no matter the circumstances. And this party convinced Jesse that Genji’s tales of lavish gatherings that the elders threw in the past on behalf of new friends and business deals were probably not exaggerated.   

The moment Jesse and Hanzo had pressed through the front doors of the cliff side estate building that was to hold the event, past the armed oni-masked omnic guards that manned the doors, they were handed flutes of champagne by a waiter holding a tray of identical glasses with gold ribbons tied under the bowl of the cup. Ladies and gentlemen milled about dressed in suits and dresses of the highest quality fabrics from only the most luxurious name brands—immediately making Jesse thankful for the _real_ Gucci suit he was wearing. Hanzo had assured him before leaving the hotel that a fake could be spotted a mile away at such a gathering, and it would make everyone immediately suspicious of them. After all, what wealthy business man lets their entourage dress like a commoner?

Looking around at the other guests, it was almost easy to forget that these were some of the deadliest people in Hanamura, each having a long list of crimes following them. Save for a couple guests who were missing fingers, ears, or had nasty looking scars exposed, this group appeared to just be rich socialites like one would find in any city across the world.

The duo made their way over to a space beside the wall to talk.

                “Do you see that man over there?” Hanzo asked, discreetly pointing out a man on the far side of the room with a pot marked face and scars on his scalp. “That man has a million dollar bounty on his head for arms smuggling into China. Oh, and see her?” This time it was a tall woman with a beakish nose. “It is said that she is the mistress of English royalty.”

Jesse let out a low whistle. “Everyone in ‘ere is deadlier than a mad rattlesnake huh?”

Hanzo’s eyes were hawkish as they scanned the crowd while inconspicuously adjusting his earpiece. Morrison had assured them that as the time drew closer to their Evac, that someone in Gibraltar would hop on their coms. “Everyone, right down to the wait staff. Do not let your guard down.”   

                “Not even fer a moment, _Sir._ ‘S my job t’ keep an eye out fer y’.” They began walking around the main floor, which was stuffed with round cloth clad tables piled high with all sorts of fares from small finger foods to lavish cuisine from around the world. The guests all waltzed around, some socializing in small groups, others on their own, all with plates of food and glasses of alcohol. Music played from hidden speakers, filling the din of the hall with hits from hundreds of years before, when the likes of Mozart and Beethoven were popular. It was a lavish affair, far fancier than anything McCree was used to. The biggest kind of parties he was used to were the big post-heist keg parties that Deadlock threw, and then pretty much more of the same when Blackwatch completed a mission up to Reyes’ standards.

The Overwatch agents each made themselves small plates of food to munch on as they wandered. On occasion a guest would approach them, having heard of the deal between Aaya and the Shimada, and offered Hanzo their congratulations and business cards. By the time the duo finished their rounds on the first floor, Hanzo’s pockets were practically overflowing.

                “Who would’a thought you’d be so popular, Aaya-San,” McCree commented as Hanzo handed off their empty plates to a waiter. Their food had been good—poison free thankfully—and Jesse found himself immensely grateful Hanzo had taught him how to use chopsticks all those dates ago.

                “Talk travels fast in the clan atmosphere,” Hanzo said coolly. He had half expected such a thing would occur; it was common for ‘new comers’ to be gossiped about quickly. Decisions on his usefulness were often determined within the first twenty-four hours. “They seem to think I’ll be of some use. That is a good sign.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to be admiring his boyfriend, but Jesse couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering over Hanzo. His suit fit him to a T—his shoulders looking sharp and broad, his waist slim, his frame filled out. But McCree’s favorite piece of his outfit was the ribbon holding up his hair—the one that he had bought him at the Gucci store. It brought a smile to Jesse’s face, and he wanted to run the silky fabric through his fingers. What he wouldn’t give to have a private moment amongst the beautiful lights and decorations. A party for just the two of them where they didn’t have to care about the success or failure of making just the right moves. But right now they were on a mission. He was to act as the body guard, and he would be damned he ruined the mission and Overwatch’s future by making googly eyes like a love stricken teen.

Jesse was about to make a comment, a statement of Hanzo’s beauty—even at the risk of sounding cliché, as they climbed the steps to the next level, but a voice from above cut him off. “ _Ah, Aaya-San, good to see you_.” When the cowboy looked up, standing at the top of the steps peering down with a sleazy smile was none other than Yoshi. The man was leaning up on the thick white stone railing of the steps, shoulder resting dangerously close to a replica of the ancient Nike of Samothrace statue (although they had decided to place a head on her shoulders despite the original missing hers). He too was decked out in a tailored suit, his being white over a black dress shirt. Jesse couldn’t hide his scowl, and he knew Yoshi had seen it. “Oh, and the bodyguard. Welcome.” It was clear by his tone that he _wasn’t_ welcome.

Hanzo slapped on a pleasant smile. “Greetings. _The Shimada sure have put on a beautiful affair_.” Hanzo and Jesse finished climbing the steps, joining Yoshi at the top. Jesse couldn’t help but frown as Hanzo began speaking in Japanese; just like before he felt excluded, but this time, things would be different—he would not throw a fit. Jesse was determined to behave himself and protect Hanzo.

Yoshi gestured for them to follow him. Wine glasses were handed to them immediately, but Jesse waved his off—he needed a clear head for the upcoming events. Hanzo however pressed the glass to his lips after Jesse cleared it. The upper floor was large by the looks of it. Two hallways lead both left and right, and along each hall were a series of doors before the hall turned in a different direction. In front of them however were a series of stone half arches, through which one could see the ballroom like area laying just beyond. The area back behind the arches was very _tholos_ in its design, with a large open middle in which people were dancing over marble flooring, while the outer reaches were surrounded by pillars topped with Corinthian leaves. Party goers, if not dancing, were congregating in the halls, in the side rooms (some of which had open doors revealing illicit substances being passed around), as well as amongst the columns. The whole building struck Jesse as oddly western, very out of place with the traditional Japanese layout of the rest of the estate.

Hanzo must have sensed his confusion. “This building…it is very strange,” he commented aloud to Yoshi whilst gazing around. There were other statues on display down the hall, but Jesse couldn’t make out what they were—not that it was likely he could name them. The cowboy couldn’t recall the last time he had attended an art class. Maybe middle school? High school was a blur, mostly consisting of skipping out and smoking back behind the bleachers with kids who had long since fallen to violence and crime. Perhaps if he would have gone he could have shown off some sort of high-class knowledge to his lover, and put the slime ball yakuza man in his place.

Yoshi smirked. “ _The estate is an amalgamation of the loves and interests of all of the past leaders of the clan_.” As he spoke he led them to the beginnings of the columns around the dance floor. “ _In the early 2000s, we had a leader whom adored the ancient classics of Rome. He had a great fondness for the archeology that unearthed the marble statues, and if not for the originals being in protected museums in Europe, certainly we would have them here. In his old age he lamented not visiting the home of these western pieces—he was always fond of Tivoli—_ “

                “Ah, the home of Emperor Hadrian no? I have been there once, and I must stay, it was beautiful, even as decrepit as it was.” Hanzo had said it with such confidence, it made McCree wonder if he actually _had_ been there, perhaps in his youth. Jesse was thankful for the English—having not understood a lick of what Yoshi had said. “Pompeii was also a wonderful site I had the pleasure of visiting—although I could have done without the packs of dogs.”

Yoshi had led them around the columns and towards a balcony set off beyond the dancing area. Out on the balcony one could see the dark sky—stars obscured by the lights of Hanamura—as well at the cliff side far below, while at the same time not cut off from the dancing areas. A series of small clothed tables were scattered across the large balcony, and small groups sat at them smoking cigars and cigarettes. Jesse took this as his cue and pulled a cigarillo from his breast pocket along with a lighter. He briefly caught Hanzo staring at him with a soft expression, but it was only fleeting before it was gone, focus back on their guide. Yoshi guided them to a table off to the side. A crystal ashtray sat in the center of the table along with a square red paper lantern that was casting a warm glow across their faces. All three men sat with their backs to the cliffs, their gazes back across a clearing in the columns to watch the couples dancing on the floor to the soft cries of a violin and the accompaniment of a piano.

                “ _Well, I suppose I should thank your old lord for his decorative tastes. The building is quite beautiful_ — _something quite different to see in Japan,_ ” Hanzo commented. His eyes were scanning the crowd, noting the faces and the amount of couples. This was an odd area to bring them. A part of him was filled with…what could it be? A fluttering dim pain in his chest. Longing? What fun it would be to show off his knowledge of dancing to his significate other. But they were not in this place for _fun_. Hanzo’s eyes flicked to Jesse. He would have to escape for a look around soon—they were lingering too long and Morrison’s warnings rang in his head.  

Yoshi’s smirk did not go unseen by Jesse who was immediately set on guard by it. “ _It is a gorgeous place—an excellent place to entertain._ ” He spoke directly to Hanzo as Jesse puffed on his cigarillo, scowling beside his pretend master. Yoshi raised his hand up and made a ‘come hither’ motion, in which brought for a waitress seemingly out of nowhere. On the tray in her hands were cups and a serving bottle filled with hot sake. The girl began pouring for Yoshi and Hanzo, but as she started the third, Jesse waved her off politely. Yoshi frowned slightly but took it in stride. “Tapping out already? I thought Americans were big drinkers. Is our Japanese drinks not to your liking? ”

                “Someone has to keep an eye on Aaya-San,” Jesse retorted, blowing smoke up into the air as he did so. Hanzo on the other hand only hesitated slightly before reaching for his cup and taking a drink. His partner watched with slight concern—what if that had been poisoned? But when Hanzo didn’t immediately fall over, he assumed the bottle was untainted.

Their host had his face propped in one hand, elbow on the table, eyes locked on Jesse. Challenge flickered in his eyes. “But Eric-San, this _is_ a party, should you not be entertained as well?”

                “My entertainment comes second to Aaya-San’s safety.”

With a small huff as a retort, Yoshi turned to the waitress and snapped something at her in Japanese. She scurried off and not a moment later she was sending someone over to their table. A young lady shuffled their way, her black hair done in a thick braid twirled into a bun, her lips painted pink like a cherry blossom, and a silk dark blue kimono with white flowers at the bottom draped across her with a light blue sash with a bow in front of her waist. Her eyes were dark and rimmed with black and powdered with blue shadow. She was beautiful by all means, her very posture presenting as someone with extreme grace and dignity, even if her eyes were somewhat sultry. Jesse felt more than saw Hanzo stiffen slightly beside him at the girl’s approach. And just like that the cup of sake was gone and Yoshi was motioning for another.

                “Kimi is one of our party entertainers,” Yoshi said casually. The girl came over, her manicured fingers tracing the back of Jesse’s chair before skirting across his shoulders. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that went down his spine. Yoshi was eyeing him for once, ignoring Hanzo who was already sipping at his next glass of sake. “I am sure she would be more than please to _entertain_ you.”

The girl, Kimi, pulled Jesse’s chair out slightly and took to sitting on his knee. She was as light as a feather, and beautiful as any blossom, and it sent a shiver down Jesse’s body when she smiled at him and puckered her glazed lips slightly.

 _She’s a Shimada whore._ He realized with a start. Many questions popped into his head at once. How many did the Shimada have? Were they willing in all this? Were the happy? Miserable? Had girls like her been kept by the Shimada when Hanzo was here? Did Hanzo have a favorite? The last one sent a spark of anger through him. “I do not want—“

It was Hanzo who cut off his protests. “Eric. You have been following me around Hanamura for the past couple days, hardly having any time to yourself, and you haven’t protested. Not once.” His tone was even, calm, maybe even a little stern. “Go. Have fun with her. Just…don’t be _too_ long. We do have a flight to catch in the morning.”

Jesse bit his lips. He didn’t look at the girl in his lap, but rather at the man at his side with such beautiful eyes that looked like molten gold in the dim light. _For the mission_ , is what those molten gold eyes said to him in the dim light. _Hurry, now’s your chance._ The younger man gave a sigh he disguised as a huff of a laugh. “A-Alright. Your call boss.” He went to adjust his hat, but having left it at the room he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear while running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Ok sugar. Kimi right? Want to show me around?”

When she stared at him blankly, Yoshi growled something to her in Japanese that had her smiling coyly and hopping off his lap. Her tiny hands found his and got him to standing. Hand in hand she began leading him away from Hanzo. But now was his chance. It would be easy to lose her and get down to the vault to look for the schematics. Jesse cast a look back over his shoulder, eyes pleading with Hanzo as Kimi dragged him back across the dance floor and down a hall. _Please stay safe._

As Jesse disappeared from view Yoshi gave a slight laugh and refilled Hanzo’s cup himself. “ _How kind of you to send the dog away. Maybe we can actually talk now._ ”

Hanzo huffed a laugh. “ _Hopefully it brings some stress relief to him. He works so diligently for me_.”

The frown the slowly consumed Yoshi went unseen by Hanzo who was pressing his cup to his lips again, hoping to block out the nagging voices in the back of his head about how attractive the girl was.

* * *

 

Kimi led Jesse down several halls before pushing him playfully against one of the doors. Each hall they passed through looked more or less the same save for some of the statues and art, but Jesse made sure to mentally note where the steps were. He was going to be in need of them soon. The Overwatch agent put on a charming smile as the girl giggled and murmured what he assumed were sweet nothings or dirty promises in Japanese to him. Jesse had to wonder how old she even was; not a day over twenty five, that was for sure. They had passed by a couple other party goers doing the same with other girls dressed similarly to Kimi, but thankfully no guards. Perhaps they avoided this area?

                “Geez hun, y’ sure are eager—“ She had her prefect nails popping open the buttons on Jesse’s suit and was attempting to push the suit jacket from his shoulders. “Hold on, hold on!” he hissed. He physically had to hold her at arm’s length to get her to stop. _Of course she doesn’t know English._ The girl looked confused when he stopped her, making him sigh. “Look, I’m not sayin’---aw, fuck it, y’ don’t know what I’m tellin’ you…” He thought for a moment before gesturing at the door. “Let’s get _inside_ before we start gettin’ busy…”

The motion at the door must have clicked with her because she was nodding eagerly and opening it for him. She stepped inside first and was instantly crowded by Jesse as he shut the door behind her. But instead of getting the kiss she was expecting, she found his fist coming up from below, catching her in the stomach. The air whizzed out of her with a painful huff before she was falling backwards. At least McCree had the decency to catch her with a guilty look on his face. A quick pat down revealed she had no weapon on her.

                “Sorry darlin’. No hard feelings but I need y’ to nap fer a while.”

Like the gentleman he was, he deposited her on the bed before exiting, locking the door behind him so she couldn’t alert the guards. He stole back down the hallway, exaggerating a walk of shame to walk past a couple just going into a room, before making a beeline for a nearby staircase. Each step down the staircase seemed a thunderous noise as his dress shoes click-clacked down the metal steps. He went down to the very bottom, leaving him in a dimly lit room before a similarly lit corridor. With a finger he reached up and tapped his com.

                “McCree reportin’ in,” he whispered into the darkness.

The moments ticked by. Jesse was hyper aware of the silence surrounding him—so far away from the music and chatter of the crowds—and of the face he was beginning to sweat. Hanzo didn’t reply, but Gibraltar did. “Winston here.”

                “Morrison, listening in.”

                “Hello McCree—“

                “Ana?” It was nice to hear his mentor’s elderly voice on the line.

                “Good evening dear. I hope the missions is going well.”

Morrison’s gruff voice replaced Ana’s. “Status?”

McCree poked his head out the doorway at the bottom of the staircase, glancing down the darkened hallway, looking for security before drawing back. “I was able t’ slip away with a prostitute and got down into t’ basement area. I’m heading fer the vault now.”

Ana cut in overtop Morrison’s voice. “A prostitute? Jesse McCree!”

The cowboy sighed heavily. “It wasn’t my choice okay? I jus’ wanted t’ report in—“

                “Where’s agent Shimada?” Winston asked.

                “He’s back up on the balcony with that Yoshi fellow.” Saying aloud left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jack made a huff sort of sound. “Be quick and get back to him McCree. He’s defenseless.”          

                “Copy that boss. I’ll report in once I’m out of the vault.”

With that he cut the com and headed down the hall. It wasn’t as lavish as the rest of the building—obviously design for more utility than style. Supply carts were pushed against the hall—which was three carts wide. Ducking behind the laundry carts as he went along, Jesse checked for guards. It wasn’t until he nearly reached the end of the hall—having passed many supply closets--that he saw a single omnic guard in front of the sealed door.

_I thought there would be more security…_

But who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? From his pocket he pulled a heavy duty magnetic bomb clip, and with a push of the button activated the inner magnet before hurling it at the omnic. The magnet attached to the robot’s chest with a click. There was a crackle as the omnic’s body was assaulted by the magnetic pulses that were charging through his body, and within seconds his optical sensors were blinking rapidly before going dark. The omnic fell forward onto the floor with a loud clatter that echoed down the hall. Jesse cringed and ducked into a food closet, waiting to see if there would be any investigation of the noise. One minute turned into nearly five and nobody came to see what had happened. Judging it to be safe he snuck over to the door. It was mechanically locked, a scanner the only way to unlock it. Quickly he checked the metal body at his feet, patting down the oni outfit.

                “What do we have here…?”

A yellow keycard fell from the omnic’s pocket. Jesse picked it up quickly and swiped it in the reader. There were a soft ding as the latch opened.

                “Bingo.”

Inside looked surprisingly not too unlike a library. Bookshelves lined the wall from floor to ceiling, with several rows spanning the width and length for the room, aisle between them that were big enough for a person or two to stand comfortably. Each shelf was packed to almost overflowing with pictures, books, documents, folders, rolled up scrolls, and then some heavier objects like vases, boxes, and other ancient looking artifacts. A museum to the Shimada. Florescent lights lit down the aisle ways, revealing….

                “Empty?”

There were no guards. No security wires. Not even a camera? The whole thing felt weird to Jesse as he cautiously entered into the room. He had expected guards at every turn, omnics waiting to cut him open with lasers. Not…a library after closing. But he was not going to complain. Hanzo had said that the newer something was, the closer to the front it was going to be stored. And considering there was so much history in the place…

                “Better start looking.”

* * *

 

It was beginning to get late---wasn’t it? Hanzo couldn’t really tell. The sky was still dark, and there were still people dancing—but watching them was making him dizzier. Yoshi was still next to him, regaling him on some overseas trip to Korea he had, but Hanzo wasn’t able to focus. Was he tired? It had started by zoning out slightly, only to be snapped back to reality by another cup of sake being slid to him. He loved sake and relished any time he was able to get his hands on it. Perhaps a poor decision on his part. Was he drunk? But he had been sipping on alcohol all night on a full stomach, meaning there was no reason for the dizziness. His body felt heavy. Where was Jesse?

                “ _Are you alright Aaya-San? You look rather…tired_ ,” Yoshi commented, a worried expression on his face.

Hanzo braced his elbows on the table before him. He could barely focus on the man in front of him, Yoshi appearing hardly more than a blur of white before his vision steadied slightly and gave him shape. “ _I…I am not well_ ,” he found himself admitting, with a slight slur in his speech. He didn’t want to admit, but he could feel panic sparking in his chest. Something was wrong.

                “ _Ah, perhaps you drank too much? Here, come with me. I’ll help you.”_

Yoshi’s hands found their way to Hanzo, helping lifting him to standing, at which time Hanzo almost fell flat on his face were it not for the firm chest in front of him. Hanzo’s hands clung to Yoshi’s shoulders to keep him from slipping, while Yoshi’s hands supported his waist.

_Oh, Jesse would be livid if he saw._

Hanzo didn’t know how, but, as he stood, the dizziness stopped for a brief minute, allowing him to look at the table in a moment of clarity. He clearly saw his three sake cups, all sitting empty in a row, save for his fourth cup which had hardly been touched. There was McCree’s cigar smashed into the cigarette tray. And on Yoshi’s side—

A single full cup of sake.

The archer’s brain tried to supply him with something, a conclusion, a warning, but the dizziness came back full force, obscuring the thought.

                “ _Come…this way_.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***READ ME FOR WARNINGS (includes some spoilers)***
> 
> Here we go. This is the chapter with all the warnings. As you probably gathered from the last chapter, Hanzo has been drugged, and Yoshi's intentions are not good. This chapter includes a drugged Hanzo, dub con as far as touching and kissing (which Yoshi hoped to escalate to sex but I will say it doesn't get that far). Also includes violence and torture using a blade and a gun. If you are uncomfortable with any of these things and wish to skip this chapter, I will have a summary at the beginning of the next chapter. I will ad these warnings to the tags, but if there is anything else that anyone would like me to add for the sensitive content, please let me know! 
> 
> And just as a reminder, the italics between Hanzo and Yoshi are meant to be taken as conversation in Japanese.
> 
> As always, thank you all for the kudos and the reviews! From Hanamura with Love is almost done! Then it will be onto my true pet project! Stay tuned!

Hanzo hadn’t been kidding when he likened the ‘vault’ to a Shimada museum. Jesse felt like he had been thumbing through artifacts and papers for hours and hadn’t come up with anything resembling weapon plans. He found marriage contracts, birth certificates (including Genji’s and Hanzo’s), maps to additions of the estate, wills…and a photo album. Jesse pulled the old looking leather book out from one of many shelves and squatted down on the ground to open it. The old leather binding and cover was cracked and obscured by years of dust, muddying the real color of it.

He couldn’t read what was on the cover, but when he opened it up, it became clear that it belonged to Hanzo and Genji’s mother. Inside was stuffed with pictures of the two in their youth, ranging from birth, all the way up to their early twenties. Jesse found himself amused looking at pictures of Genji, who looked like a carrot in an orange scarf with grass green hair. The cowboy almost felt as if he were intruding on something as he thumbed tenderly through the laminated book, gazing upon memories that someone had held dear enough to preserve in this place. He couldn’t help but linger over the young face of Hanzo, watching him transform from a small beaming child to a scowling yet beautiful adult. Long black hair trailing well past his shoulders, hawk-like eyes pierced through the camera, and was overall a very lean figure--he was gorgeous. As Jesse turned the photo laden pages, hastening because he was aware he was dallying, he stumbled across a picture of Hanzo dated the year he turned 21. His mother had snapped the picture out in the gardens—her son was sitting out on the bench where they had run into Yoshi, eyes locked somewhere on the horizon, hair tied back and pulled away from his face. Stormbow rested beside him, and he wore an outfit of orange and white. The lighting caught in the inky strands of hair and across his cheek bones and Cupid’s bow, making him look almost highlighted. Jesse did his best to ignore the younger version of Yoshi lingering not too far behind him. Perhaps it had been a moment of meditation, perhaps it had been posed by his mother, regardless, Hanzo looked a model of perfection for Jesse, enough so that he removed the picture from the book and slid it into his breast pocket of his shirt. But it was best to keep moving.

Moving past the album led him to more trinkets of sentimental value, including a scrap of bloody tapestry by the looks of it—whatever that meant. It wasn’t until far down a row, several shelves in, did Jesse see something out of place. A vanilla folder had been slid in between two books. Normally it wouldn’t have appeared out of the ordinary. However, both large leather bound books were coated in dust from disuse. This folder however looked too new, slid in recently to be forgotten, a nondescript folder with a small talon symbol on the tab.

                “Hello…what’s this?”

Standing on his toes he managed to grab the folder from the highest point of the shelf and bring it down. Opening it up revealed several things. Inside there was a copy of the documents they had recovered from the Talon warehouse that prompted this mission. Next and possibly more important were a series of small scale blueprints. Now, Jesse was a smart guy. He had always been quick tongued and of wit, and he had a damn good memory. But even giving the blue pages a once over, he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was looking at. It looked like a large canon like gun, but there was no way…

_Where would they develop something like this?_

Just the scaling alone would make this weapon larger than a house. The base was circular with a canon like set up on top that appeared to be able to swing around in a full circle due to a moving platform beneath. What it launched Jesse couldn’t decipher, and frankly, that wasn’t his job; his job was to merely find the documents and get them into Overwatch hands. But even as he tucked the folder in a slot in his suit jacket, he couldn’t help put ponder. The construction site would have to be away from prying eyes, heavily guarded, probably near a large electric supply to work the equipment that would be used to create something so huge. The notes that were scrawled in the margins in silver marker were in Japanese—useless to Jesse. After a few pages of different blue prints, all for a similar weapon but each slightly different variation from the one before.

With the folder safe on his person he hastily made for the door. Still no guards had shown up, no alarms had tripped, and the destroyed omnic from earlier was still at the foot of the door. Suspicion flooded him. Jesse reached up, reactivating his com.

                “McCree reportin’ in.”  

                “Go for Winston.”

                “Morrison here.”

Jesse ducked into a nearby supply closet, scooting a broom out of the way so he could watch down the hall yet be out of sight. “I found the documents. They’re building somethin’ _big_ —but the whole thing is in Japanese…I can’t make any sense of it, but it’s _huge_.”

Morrison cursed under his breath. “I had hoped that perhaps this was just a wild goose chase…Dammit…”

                “This isn’t good…” Winston mumbled. “If they’re building something huge…”

                “Everythin’ about tonight has been weird,” Jesse said hesitantly. “There was no security in the vault—“

                “ _What_?” Morrison seemed less than pleased when he hissed that out.

McCree nodded. “There was _one_ omnic outside the door, but inside there were no traps…not even a camera. There’s _still_ nobody.”

                “Find Shimada and get to evac,” Jack barked. “No sense in waiting around for the trap to finally spring—“

                “Trap?”

“Everything is set up and waiting,” Winston said. Even his tone seemed nervous. “We need those documents in our hands pronto. You have an hour and a half—“

                “Got ‘cha boss,” Jesse said almost happily. He was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed, and perhaps now there would be a new addition to it. “I’m headin’ back to Hanzo.”

                “Good. Morrison out.”

Winston coughed. “You may want to hurry. Agent Shimada has yet to check in…Winston out.”

Without waiting Jesse stole back through the halls like a shadow. By the time he returned up towards the dancing area, it was obvious the party had begun winding down. Hardly anyone was dancing, couples were disappearing back into side rooms in order to extend the fun, and the wait staff was collecting discarded cups and silverware from the tables. With quick strides Jesse weaved through the forest of columns before arriving out on the balcony—only to find it empty.

                “A-Aaya-San?” he called out. He hadn’t been gone that long had he? Panic swelled in his chest. _Yoshi_. Glancing around he saw a waitress nearby who was cleaning off tables. “E-Excuse me!” he blurted out, startling her. He could only hope that she spoke English. “Have you seen Aaya-San? Last I saw he was here and—“

                “Oh, the handsome man with the long hair?” she asked. Jesse breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the familiar language. “He left some time ago with Yoshi-San.”

And with that his heart plummeted. _Oh no._ “Do you know where they were headed?”

The girl made a thoughtful face. “Hm. I can’t be certain, but your Aaya-San looked rather drunk. Perhaps they went to go lay down?” She gave him simple instructions on how to get to Yoshi’s room before adding, “You…may want to knock first.” At Jesse’s inquisitive expression, she elaborated with, “Aaya-San was falling into Yoshi-San as they left…I thought perhaps they were going to be…” She made a short of ‘well, you know’ kind of gesture that had bile coming up Jesse’s throat.

* * *

 

Hanzo stumbled into the door back first, shoved rough by the person before him. The air pressed out his mouth. His eyes wouldn’t focus—everything was blurry and swimming, making his stomach feel like a boat on the ocean waves. He could tell there was a dark sort of wallpaper on the hall walls, the lights were dim, and he was alone with this person---but everything kept going in and out of focus. With palms behind him against the door he tried to find purchase as a torso pressed against his front. Lips were insistent against his own, again and again begging for entrance to his hot mouth. Without thinking he opened up to the demands of the imploring tongue, ripping a grunt from him as the intruding tongue stroked his. Two hand pressed against the wood door on either side of Hanzo’s head effectively boxing him in.

                “Hmmf--!”

Yoshi growled against his lips and pressed his body full against Hanzo. “ _You taste so sweet_ ,” he murmured when he pulled away just a breath. “ _I bet you look just as sweet underneath all those clothes yeah?”_

How had he gotten there? Why were they kissing? Why was his head spinning? Where was Jesse?

 _He drugged you, you idiot. You should have noticed he wasn’t drinking his sake…_ a voice inside him supplied, albeit a bit too late. Hanzo shouldn’t have been surprised—it was a drug that the Shimada had developed before Hanzo was born, made to disorient victims for a short period of time, muddle their minds and disable their motion so they can’t get away. The whole goal would have been to get the drug in their system, then drag them off to interrogate them. It wasn’t terribly long lasting—which Hanzo had once been aggravated about when _he_ had to do the drugging, but now he was counting down the moments until it wore off. As the tongue invaded his mouth he couldn’t help but wonder when Yoshi has slipped the powder into his sake.

His attacker smirked in the dim light. “ _I can only be thankful your damn dog left your side…_ ” He kissed the corner of Hanzo’ mouth. “ _Now, let’s have some fun yeah?”_

There was a click as Yoshi unlocked the door. If not for the arm then around his waist Hanzo would have fallen backwards onto the floor. Yoshi’s room was lavish. The walls were decorated in faux paper displaying a bamboo forest dotted with little monkeys here and there. The bed was of western style with black and red sheets and a pile of pillows. In lieu of single windows, the entire one wall was one big window with a sliding door that led out on to a balcony cluttered with plants. Everything seemed to have a very specific spot, down to even loose change and nick-knacks. Photos were arranged on the dresser—almost at odds with Yoshi’s overall cold seeming personality. Little bits and pieces of the room flickered into clarity for Hanzo in brief clips before fading to obscurity again. But the moment he saw the windows he knew…this was Yoshi’s old room. He had spent plenty of time here over a decade before, and even though some things had moved around or had been changed out for new furniture it still _felt_ the same. Forbidden. Dangerous. He shouldn’t be there.

A shove sent Hanzo drunkenly sprawling onto the bed, his body bouncing slightly against the sheets. He blinked up disoriented as Yoshi stood at the end of the bed. Yoshi’s hands came up to the buttons of his suit and began loosening them so he could shrug off his jacket.

A knife. Hanzo needed a knife. With it he could…he could--!

_You can’t fight. Not like this._

Hanzo laid there, back against the bed, trying his best to glare up at the man, but his face seemed disjointed with his emotions.

                “ _Oh? A smile?_ ”

If he could stall, perhaps he would sober up enough to get away. The window would be his best bet. Rush the patio, scale the wall down, make a break for it-- But at the moment he felt like he had been drinking for eight years and it hit him all at once. His vision was slowly spinning—although not as bad as before-- and his body felt so heavy, along with his tongue—making it impossible for him to yell for help. Not that it would matter; he was in enemy territory, who would help him?

_Jesse would. But where is he?_

A memory of the girl from earlier surfaced in his mind. She had been a Shimada whore, and Hanzo had told Jesse to go with her, full well knowing what she was. It had been the perfect way into the castle’s belly, but perhaps he…Was that truly where he was? Did he really accept the girl’s offer for sex and leave Hanzo? The thought made his stomach almost lurch up his throat.

White fabric hit the floor as Yoshi shed his suit jacket, closely followed by his dress shirt. His eyes were leering down at Hanzo on the bed. “ _I’ve been thinking of this for a long time_ ,” his captor murmured. Suddenly Yoshi’s knees were on the bed and he was sliding up Hanzo’s body to reconnect their lips. Hanzo tried to struggle but it was hard; the drug was wearing off but not fast enough. When Yoshi pulled away he was looking down at him with a hard to read expression. Hands came up to unbutton Hanzo’s jacket. Hanzo thrashed to the side but was quickly put back to where he was. Yoshi ‘tsk’d’ at him. “ _Darling…Relax. It’s just me.”_

Maybe it was the drug. It was messing with him. Hanzo’s vision stopped swimming very slowly, allowing everything to come into focus. But he still felt very heavy.

But those words…

Yoshi’s pushed Hanzo’s jacket off of him.

_Don’t let him see! The tattoo--!_

Yoshi’s lips were trailing across his cheek and down his exposed neck, leaving warmth and a tingling feeling in his wake. Hanzo tried again to struggle away, but Yoshi pressed his body down on him, torso to torso, hips slotted together just right. Up until then Hanzo had avoided Yoshi’s gaze. He refused to give Yoshi the satisfaction of seeing his alarm and fear. As soon as the jacket fell away to the floor however a hand was on either side of his face, directing his attention to the face hovering just above his. A good head-butt would have broken Hanzo free but he was still too weak, even if the dizziness had stopped. Thumbs came up to caress his cheeks, and paired with the almost soft gaze, it immediately struck Hanzo as strange---until---------

                “ _It’s just me. But you’ve known all along haven’t you?”_ The words, spoken so close to Hanzo’s lips he could feel the breath, were haunting. “ _I’ve missed you Hanzo.”_

The words came across like a biting cold slap to the face. Hanzo felt his eyes widen as the realization sank in. The drug _must_ have been starting to wear off, because his thinking was getting crisper and crisper.

 _He knew_. _He knew. He knew._

From the moment he had approached Jesse and him in the gardens…to the kiss…to the party…all of it had been planned and calculated. A wolf in sheep’s clothes, Yoshi had moved all the pieces on his chess board with precision, knowing this would be the outcome.

_No wonder he wanted Jesse away from me…_

Yoshi pulled open Hanzo’s dress shirt, revealing the blue and yellow signature dragon tattoo of Hanzo Shimada. His finger delicately traced along the tail of the creature on his pec, then ventured up along the spin of the beast. “ _It’s just as beautiful as I remember it. My Hanzo…”_

_“You………..have no….right—“_

The thumb that trailed over Hanzo’s still half numb bottom lip silenced him. “ _I have the only right. You were mine then…and you are mine now—_ “ Yoshi craned his head now to kiss at the ink on Hanzo’s pec, then up his shoulder and down his arm to his wrist, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Panic swelled in Hanzo. Even if he was regaining control of his body, it wouldn’t come fast enough to avoid—

                “ _Please—_ “

Yoshi’s eyes flicked up dangerously at the words, causing Hanzo to snap his mouth shut. “ _Yes, you always were fond of saying that, weren’t you? All those times you_ begged _for me…_ ” Fingers trailed down Hanzo’s naked torso to toy with the hem of his dress pants. _“I’ve missed you Hanzo. I shouldn’t have left you…I could never find anyone who satisfied me like you did. And now…I’ll keep you with me forever.”_

* * *

 

As much as Jesse wanted to run to where the woman had directed him Yoshi’s room would be, he knew that his movements would be akin to a bull in a China shop. So he kept to the shadows, avoided the stragglers from the party as he made his way through the twisted halls. Perhaps the statues weren’t the only things taken from the ways of ancient Rome and Greece: was the very castle made in the image of the Labyrinth of the Minotaur?

Jesse’s heart was hammering in his chest. What if he was too late? What if something had happened to Hanzo? The commander’s words of warning from the morning rang out in his head. _‘If you take a wrong step…Hanzo will have no means to defend himself. You understand that, don’t you?’_ He had done it hadn’t he? Taken a wrong step? It was foolish to leave his partner alone with that snake looking bastard. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to rectify the mistake.

Then finally, just as he was about to second guess himself and turn around to head a different direction, he heard it. A muffled noise of distress. He hustled as quietly as he could to the room in question and pressed his ear against the door. Within he could hear the rustling of what sounded like sheets, and Japanese murmurs. From inside suit jacket he pulled Peacekeeper, which gleamed a dangerous silver in the pale light of the hall. After making sure each chamber had a bullet slid in, he opened the door quietly.

Moonlight was the only source of lighting in the room, but it did the job enough for McCree to see Yoshi, towering above Hanzo, who was back first down on the bed, struggling almost drunkenly to dislodge the hands that were at his waist. It didn’t take much assuming on Jesse’s part to know Hanzo had been drugged—his sluggish motions being the dead giveaway. The cowboy had no idea what was being said between the two men, but Hanzo’s almost frantic tone was enough to make anger flood Jesse’s system.

In three long strides he was at the bed, nearly blinded by rage, the gun in his hand coming up to press firmly at the base of Yoshi’s skull right above the tie for his ponytail.

                “Get the fuck off of ‘im.”

All movement in the room ceased at the caustic tone of Jesse’s deep voice. The sudden English had been jarring enough, but the venom packed into the six word sentence sent chills down even Hanzo’s back.

                “Ah, the dog returns—“

With a fluid and trained movement backed by anger, the spurred butt of Jesse’s pistol collided with the side of Yoshi’s head as the man had turned to confront him. The blonde was sent staggering before the ringing in his ears caused by the hit finally sent him to the ground. Blood oozed from the cuts the spur made, slowing creeping down his face and dripping onto the white suit jacket that had been discarded to the floor. Jesse surged forward into the space Yoshi had once been in, his metal hand coming up to cup the one side of Hanzo’s face tenderly.

                “Sugar, sweetpea…Hanzo, are y’ ok?”

Hanzo’s eyes looked out of focus, but he seemed to be coming around from whatever drug they had pumped into him. “J-Jesse? How did you…?”

Jesse gave him a comforting squeeze. “I’ll tell y’ later okay?” His eyes were warm as they gazed upon his lover. The cowboy was thankful he had been able to reach him before that _rat_ defiled him. Speaking of which…He pulled away from Hanzo carefully and turned a fiery gaze to the man attempting to get to standing from the floor. Yoshi had just about got his footing when Jesse’s heel collided with his chest, sending him falling backwards, head hitting the nightstand on his way down, busting open another wound along his scalp.

                “Fuck…”

There was the distinct clink of Peacemaker as Jesse leveled the gun with Yoshi’s head. From the bed, Hanzo sat up, trying to shake off the last of the disorientation.

                “He knew all along,” Hanzo rasped finally. As the words sunk in, the hairs on the back of Jesse’s neck stood up. _Knew?_ “He knew I wasn’t ‘Aaya’.”

Yoshi was still attempting to stand up, but at Hanzo’s words Jesse shoved his foot against Yoshi’s chest, effectively pinning him to the floor. “Oh? So he was planning this from the beginnin’ huh?” The cowboy ground the heel of his expensive shoes into Yoshi’s chest, causing the man to groan in pain.

Hanzo watched, thankful that the last of the mind-fog seemed to be lifting, as Jesse’s foot slowly applied more and more pressure until- _SNAP­._ Yoshi threw back his head with a pained howl.

                “Well that’s one I think,” the cowboy purred as a rib snapped within Yoshi’s chest. “Only twenty-three more t’ go.”

The once Shimada heir was no stranger to torture. Torture had been as much as a common occurrence within the clan as stealing, drug use, and murder. Whereas Genji had been entirely too squeamish about the process of breaking an enemy body just within bearable limits, Hanzo had taken to it almost like an art form. How much pressure could be applied before something snapped? How far could something twist before it popped out of place? All of these questions probably had scientific answers somewhere on the web, but for a Shimada torturer it was an experiment each time. It had been a long time since Hanzo had to dirty his hands in such a way, and perhaps it was naïve of him, but he figured his sweet talking cowboy could _never_ become something akin to what Hanzo once was. The archer was wrong. He watched a stoic expression settle on Jesse’s face in place of the normal charming smile, and his eyes burned with a fire not of passion or humor, but something dark and ruthless. McCree of course had never _liked_ having to attend or participate in the interrogations, but in Blackwatch under Gabriel Reyes he had to learn quick to keep the bile down and the questions coming. And then there was this man who had planned such horrible things for Hanzo…

The next rib snapped quicker than the first.

                “Yer a real bastard, y’kno that Yoshi?” McCree snarled at him, to which Yoshi screamed in pain. “Han, darlin’, hand me a pillowcase will y’? He’s gettin’ a bit too loud.” Hanzo quietly removed one of the cases from around the pillow and handed it to McCree who immediately put aside Peacekeeper in order to reach down and shove part of the pillowcase in Yoshi’s gaping mouth. With a bit of quick maneuvering the rest of the fabric was tied around his head to keep the makeshift gag in place. Immediately the screams were muffled. “Ah, sweet silence. We can’t have any of yer friends comin’ to investigate can we? Oh, give me another. Forgot his hands—“

Hanzo handed over another pillowcase almost hesitantly. “Jesse shouldn’t we get to eva—“

Jesse sent a heated look Hanzo’s way. “We have _time_. He’s gonna pay fer tryin’ t’ hurt y’.”

McCree leaned down to grab Yoshi by the pony tail and force him up a bit. The yakuza man no longer looked intimidating, rather more like a frightened captive—like he truly was. The reality of his situation had finally settled upon him, but any beg for mercy was silenced. Being the room of a yakuza member, a knife was easily produced from a drawer.

                “Y’kno, I used t’ have t’ do this shit all t’ time in Blackwatch,” Jesse murmured softly to Yoshi, tone at odds with the actions of running the sharp blade down his jaw line. Blood immediately oozed up from the cut. “Its amazin’ in a way…how much someone can go through…” The cowboy applied more pressure, cutting deeper. A muffled scream came from behind the gag and tears sprung to Yoshi’s eyes. “But _everyone_ has a breakin’ point.”

 _It had been a mistake to wear white._ The strange thought had come into Hanzo’s head as he watched from the bed, both horrified and entranced, the blade danced across Yoshi’s pale skin, dragged by expert hands, causing streams of blood to trickle down his body. The blood pooled against the white fabric of Yoshi’s pants, as well as dried again and again on Jesse’s flesh hand which held the blade. Red line covered Yoshi’s face as Jesse went to town slicing him. In a true act of anger, the blade swiped deep across Yoshi’s left eye. Even the gag could not stifle the amount of screaming that had brought, as Yoshi was rendered half blind.

Hanzo shifted nervously, stomach lurching seeing the blood pump from the eye. “Jesse—“

But his lover would not yield. Instead anger built up in him. Ire for the current situation, jealousy and anger for the past. How _dare_ he continue to hurt Hanzo! Just as Hanzo thought the blade work would be enough, Jesse pulled back with an angry growl. His hand fumbled to the bed, groping until Peacekeeper came into his grasp. He opened her up with practice grace, and popped out three of her bullets and deposited them into his pants pockets as to not waste them. The remaining bullets were spread out within the revolving chamber. Hanzo gulped.

                “You’ve been playin’ games with us since we arrived in Hanamura,” Jesse said, tone low yet steady. “I’m low on time, and I got places to be. So here’s a game fer y’. Y’ saw me unload three of the bullets…” He notched back Peacekeeper’s hammer, readying a shot. With one hand he removed the gag from Yoshi’s mouth and held his chin firm. The other hand shoved the barrel of the gun into the dampness of Yoshi’s mouth. The yakuza henchman’s eyes sparked with primal fear and he immediately squirmed in futile protest. “One shot. I’m gonna pull the trigger once. Either…y’ get a blank, and y’ live t’ see another day. Or…yer brains splatter against t’ wall.” The grin on Jesse’s face was eerie to Hanzo who was moving away from the bed and from the potential mess. “You’ve done terrible things yer whole life…let’s see if Lady Luck is still keepin’ y’ in her graces.”

Hanzo backed up to the door, back against it, watching everything unfold. He had heard the spin of the chamber, readying a random outcome. Standing behind Jesse, he could see the stillness in which his lover held his gun, and the absolute fear and panic in Yoshi’s familiar eyes. How had it all come to this? If someone were to tell him this was how his dealings with Yoshi would end back when he was still a true Shimada, before he killed Genji, he would have laughed. Now the grim reality was in front of him.

In movies Hanzo believed that the interrogator would ask for last words of a man about to die, but in reality Jesse braced himself to fire the shot, and without so much as a warning to Yoshi or Hanzo, he pulled the trigger.

The resulting bang made Hanzo instinctively close his eyes, his brain supplying him with images from long ago of gore and brain matter splattered up the wall. Several pregnant moments of silence past as Hanzo kept his eyes shut against reality. It was the mutter of “I’ll be damned” from Jesse that made him open his eyes.

No blood. No guts. Just Yoshi, passed out in a pile, having clearly been overwhelmed by the possibility of death.

True to his word, Jesse withdrew Peacemaker, and although he slid the remaining bullets back inside the chamber, he put the gun back in the holster back in his jacket. The cowboy cleaned his hands off on the bed sheet before turning to Hanzo with a tender expression.

                “Are y’ feeling ok?”

Hanzo nodded slowly. “The drug appears to have worn off.” But was he okay? He had just almost been assaulted, and he had just watched his boyfriend torture his ex-bodyguard and lover. Was he truly okay?

                “Y’ think you’ll be able to get to evac walkin’?”

                “That should not be a problem. Did you find the documents?”

                “Yeah, and that’s another story fer y’.”

With one last look at his former lover, Hanzo followed Jesse out on the balcony. The blast cool air was refreshing after such a long night, and Hanzo enjoyed every moment as he and Jesse descended down the side of the building.

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! Only the epilogue left after that....and then the sequel I've been dying to write.

The cup of coco felt warm and comforting in Hanzo’s hands. It wasn’t good hot chocolate by any means; the coco was powder from an instant packet they had found on the transport, and all he had to mix it with was a fork and some hot water, but he enjoyed it all the same. Hanzo sat on the sofa at the table as the transport coasted above the clouds. Two omnics made up the entire crew, and both had stationed themselves up in the cockpit. Jesse had disappeared some time ago to send pictures of the blueprints to base, just in case something should happen to them during the flight, and presumably he was also filling in their superiors briefly on what happened in Hanamura. Hanzo finally felt himself again as he sipped his coco--the drug’s effect had all but disappeared, leaving him to his own thoughts.  A lingering image of Yoshi with the muzzle of Peacekeeper pressing past his lips flitted through Hanzo’s brain despite his best efforts of keeping what happened in that bedroom far from the forefront of his mind. He shut his eyes tight against the image. Even after all that man did...Why did he almost feel sympathy for him? Was it because they had such a history together? But his clenched fists said something entirely different. A desire for his own revenge? Before he could venture too far down that train of thought, he was distracted by Jesse coming back into the lounge area from another room.

Both men had switched out of their suits—Jesse’s was unfortunately very bloody, something he lamented over for some time when they first boarded. Hanzo had thrown on an Overwatch shirt and sweat pants, and he was amused to see Jesse had chosen the same. The cowboy ran his hands through his hair as the mechanical door slid shut behind him, his usual hat still absent. “We touch down in three hours, assumin’ we don’t hit any storms or nothin’,” he reported as he came to sit beside Hanzo. His nose wrinkled as he saw the now empty mug Hanzo was cradling. “Y’ were able t’ stomach that? I hate that powdery shit.” When Hanzo merely shrugged, Jesse trailed his fingers down Hanzo’s jaw, his brown eyes looking him over cautiously. “Are y’ feelin’ okay?” he asked gently.

Hanzo nodded, finally setting the cup down and leaning into the touch. “I was more or less better by the time we reached the transport,” he replied. It was the truth. They had run from the estate, and Jesse, despite offering, had not needed to carry him at all. His eyes were downcast as he continued. “I…I have dealt with that particular drug several times before, although never on the receiving end. If Overwatch wishes, I could recreate most of the formula—“

He was cut off by Jesse pulling him flush against him. Jesse cradled him close, his own face being buried in Hanzo’s shoulder. The motion was so unexpected it managed to startle a small gasp from the smaller man. “I’m…I’m so sorry Han…”

The archer stiffened. After a moment his arms came up to loop around him, rubbing soothing circles into Jesse’s back when he felt the first vibration and sharp inhale of breath. “J-Jesse?”

The hold his partner had on him tightened. “Y’ got drugged because I wasn’t there t’ do my job…I was supposed t’ protect y’….” Jesse gave a shuttering breath that had Hanzo’s eyes widening. Everything that Jesse had held back as they escaped Hanamura was starting to bubble over like a cooking pot over heat. “That bastard…that bastard he—“

                “But you saved me in the end,” Hanzo said quietly, soothing hands down Jesse’s back. “We got our mission complete—“

Jesse’s head bolted up, almost whacking Hanzo in the jaw. “Don’t even _think_ about finishin’ that thought!” Big hands came up to hold the sides of Hanzo’s face. So close Hanzo could smell the light cologne that dusted Jesse’s spare clothes. He could feel the stubble that had grown in where Jesse had to shave off his once shaggy but soft beard at the start of their mission. The voice that came from Jesse was cracked and quiet. “It was such a rookie mistake on my part…of course he would spike yer drink…” He bit his lip, obviously trying to hold back the tears that were welling up. “I…thought I was gonna lose y’ baby…” It wasn’t a surprise to either when their foreheads both touched.

Hanzo gave a faint smile as he watched Jesse’s lips. Quietly he said, “I knew you would find me Jesse.”

The hold on the archer tightened. “Y’ have too much faith in me.”

                “Do I? I am here, am I not? You came and saved me…” he let out a soft sigh as he stroked at the wispy hairs right before Jesse’s ears. “You always seem to find me…” Hanzo touched the end of Jesse’s nose tenderly. “Like a dog.”

                “What’s with everyone callin’ me a dog?” Jesse huffed, although at least now he was smiling a little. He rubbed the ends of their noses together gently before trailing down to Hanzo’s lips. He gave them a chaste peck before pulling back a hair. “I love you Hanzo. More than anything else…”

Hanzo’s smile was slow, but he came off big and bright, and it tugged directly at Jesse’s heart. “And I love you as well, _anata._ ”

Jesse reconnected their lips softly but eagerly. Hands trailed down to shoulders as each tried to pull the other into him. They slotted together, but Jesse was able to lean his weight in a little and press Hanzo back into the cushions of the sofa. Hanzo gave a huffed laugh as his boyfriend settled between his legs.

One of them shoved the table out a little further so they wouldn’t hit it, but it was Hanzo that asked, “What of the crew? Will they not—“

                “It’s just two omnics, and they’re programmed t’ just fly right now,” he assured him gently. “It’s just me and you darlin’.”

Reassured, Hanzo went back to kissing Jesse, holding the larger man atop him as he worked a tongue into his hot mouth. He could feel the hardness pressing against his thigh, and no doubt Jesse could feel Hanzo’s as well. The first rumble of a growl coming from Jesse sent a spike of arousal shooting through Hanzo, enough that he tangled their legs together and moved his hands up Jesse’s body to thread through his chocolate brown locks. Both tongue writhed against the other, and unlike Jesse who was full of deep growls, Hanzo was giving soft breathless noises.

It was Jesse who pulled away first, pupils blow wide with desire. “Y’ sure about this? You’re not still—“

                “ _Jesse_ —“ The resulting hump upwards against the cowboy’s crotch made Jesse moan aloud. “I am fine. _Please—_ “

                “God damn—“

A surge of lust went through both men. This wasn’t like before when Jesse slowly got Hanzo to open up, and peppered him with soft love and affection; neither men had the patience right now for such a thing. When they broke for air again, both men were panting and achingly hard.

                “I’ll---I’ll go get the lube and condoms—“

As Jesse scrambled off of Hanzo to go fetch the items, Hanzo yanked him back briefly for a kiss. “You will only need the former.”

Jesse stood there, erection plainly straining against the fabric of his sweat pants, as his muddled mind tried to process Hanzo’s roundabout words. When the realization hit, a dark blush swam across his cheeks and neck and he gave a breathy whimper. Hanzo made a hand motion to shoo him along, and it didn’t take but a moment for Jesse to go scrambling to find the luggage with his birthday present inside. While the cowboy rooted through their gear from the hotel, Hanzo laid against the cushions, and, having yanked down his pants enough to free his length, began lazily stroking himself. It was to this that Jesse walked in a minute or two later, breathless from having torn through so many duffle bags in search of the lube.

He eyed his boyfriend with undisguised want as he approached. His tongue poked out of the seam of his lips to wet them before darting back in. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart. Eager are we?”

Hanzo gazed up at him unashamed, feeling pride swell up in him as he caught Jesse watching the slow up and down waltz of his hand on his own cock. “Very.”

The sharpshooter gave a pleased noise before kicking off his shoes and socks. Under Hanzo’s dark eyes he pulled his shirt over his head, giving Hanzo a beautiful view of his tan and hairy chest before Jesse tossed the fabric over a nearby chair. Hanzo mimicked the motion, followed by finally wiggling his pants down further. Jesse yanked his sweatpants down just enough to free his pierced cock. “Don’t want the omnics seein’ too much if they come back, yeah?” The deep smoky roll of Jesse’s voice sent a bead of pre sliding down Hanzo’s dick, and it didn’t go unnoticed. “I love that y’ can get excited just off my voice darlin’,” he said with a dark purr.

                “No more than you like my voice, fool,” Hanzo teased back.

Jesse moved closer, one knee beside Hanzo on the side with the back of the sofa, the other leg further down on cushions, forcing him to lean over Hanzo due to lack of space. In reality both knew they should _probably_ wait until they get back to their quarters, out of sight, somewhere more private at the very least, but as soon as they landed they would no doubt be occupied by the demanding debriefing by their superiors. And who knew how long _that_ would take.

It was a balancing act, trying not to crush Hanzo yet have enough support to uncap the lube, but the determined cowboy managed to liberally coat his fingers, and while his metal hand held one of Hanzo’s legs out towards the table, his fleshy lubed up fingers skirted around his entrance.

                “Yer tight honey, this might take a bit…” The finger circled Hanzo’s hole, very carefully applying more and more pressure until Hanzo’s body gave in and the digit slipped inside. Hanzo squirmed against in with a soft whine. Slowly—too slowly if Hanzo were to give his opinion—Jesse worked his one finger in, then added more lube as he slipped a second inside a minute later. Hanzo’s body fluttered around the intrusion, but not too painfully. The archer looked up, biting his lip, to which Jesse merely reassured him with, “Doin’ great Han. Little more…”

It took a lot of effort on Hanzo’s part not to simply fuck back into Jesse’s fingers. His legs trembled somewhat as Jesse diligently worked him open and into a moaning mess. Jesse’s bangs were starting to stick to his forehead as he craned over his lover, arm now beginning to move in earnest as his wet fingers slid in and out of Hanzo with ease. Hanzo leaned up to brush the hair out of the way when he noticed—“You forgot your com…”

                “Ah, thanks darlin’.” The cowboy removed the earpiece—only to have to catch it quickly as he almost dropped it—before placing it on the table. With a thoughtful look he motioned Hanzo to stand. “Trust me, it’ll be easier...”

McCree maneuvered them just so. The cowboy laid back against the cushions, one leg hanging over the side, the other bent and pressed against the back of the sofa. Hanzo with only the slightest difficulty on finding where his knees should be—pressed in the small space on either side of Jesse’s hips—positioned himself right above Jesse’s cock. The archer had a look of craving on his face, legs shaking a little as he held himself up. Jesse reached up with his hands and held Hanzo’s lacing their fingers together, then giving them a light squeeze in which his partner returned. Jesse let go of one hand to help keep his cock steady as Hanzo slowly lowered himself down. Immediately Hanzo was throwing his head back and moaning aloud, filling the small lounge area with noise.

                “Baby yer so loud…I love it,” Jesse said with a lick of his lips. He let Hanzo slowly sink down until he was full seated, cock in as far as it could go, before his hands wandered down to hold onto his hips. All the while Hanzo was giving heavy breaths and squeaks through his own hand that was clamped over his mouth. “Y’ sound so good. Yer so beautiful like this—“

                “Is that McCree and Hanzo?”

Lena’s voice was jarring to say the least. Hanzo and Jesse both stilled mid thrust, eyes wide.

                “Shh, you’re going to ruin the moment.” This time it was Hana speaking in a hushed whisper. Hanzo’s head whipped around, thinking they were in the lounge area with them, only to find it empty. By then McCree had sat up, horror written across his face.

                “Are they--?”

Ana could be heard chuckling. “Being _naughty_? Indeed.”

                “What the hell are you all doing in my office?!” Jack’s voice came through the com loud and angry.

Hana whined, “Aw, Commander, we were just—“

                “GET. OUT. AND MCCREE. TURN OFF YOUR DAMN COM. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THIS.”

Hanzo’s face was blood red even through the hands what were covering it. McCree coughed awkwardly into his hand, trying to avoid the withering glare his boyfriend was casting him. “R-Right on it S-Sir.” His flesh hand fumbled around on the table before grabbing the ear pieces and pressing it to switch it off. The cowboy flopped back down, his cheeks a similar shade of red to Hanzo’s. His cock was already softening before Hanzo pulled off of it. “I—I uh…”

The ex-yakuza’s eyes were murderous, his tone borderline shrill. “You are the biggest, most insufferable—“

                “I’m sorry honey cakes—“ McCree whined, knowing he had fucked up.

                “Now the entire base is going to know!” he yelled, aspirated.

Normally Jesse would have argued, saying it would only be Ana, Lena, Hana, and Jack, but seeing how both Hana _and_ Lena were involved... “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up t’ y’—“

If the omnic captains heard any of the halfhearted whacks Jesse was receiving for being a ‘bumbling idiot cowboy’, they showed no indication.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. Poor McCree.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank you all for reading my first lengthy McHanzo fic! All the kudos and support really moved me from beginning to end! Back in February when I attended an anime convention near where I live, I was STUNNED to meet people who had read From Hanamura. STUNNED!! The fact that people were actually reading me work never ceased to amaze me. The love, support, and comments for this fic truly pushed me to write more (and hopefully better). I couldn't do it without you guys. So thank you!
> 
> I wrote this piece for all intents and purposes to lead into my "grande master plan" of a fic, which will hopefully start soon! I don't want to give too much away, but I think From Hanamura will be a nice set up for what happens in the second fic. Keep your eyes peeled for it! I don't have a name picked out at the moment, but I will 10/10 post the first chapter announcing it on my tumblr: https://sinningtea.tumblr.com/ if you want to look for it in the future. 
> 
> A special thanks to Kittenball for suffering through me rambling ideas at her, beta'ing most of my fic, and having to deal with the pressure of knowing what is going to happen next. Haha thanks buddy. 
> 
> No warnings or anything for this chapter. It's all nice :)

The months following the return from Hanamura were some of the best Jesse had ever had. When they had landed of course Hana, Lena, and Genji had positively swarmed the helipad, craving details of the relationship between him and Hanzo, but luckily just as quickly Morrison had been on their heels barking at the trio to back off. With regards to the Hanamura mission, there had been attempts to locate a site where the construction of such a device might take place, but Talon had not given off any indication that they had even started on their endeavor. Jack, Ana, and Winston remained worried about the possibility that the weapon was around somewhere unseen, but with so much else going on, they had to push forward and not become too preoccupied with it. As for Jesse and Hanzo’s love life, the base seemed a little less surprised by their ‘sudden’ relationship status change than Hanzo was happy with, but if it allowed for the two of them to be a bit more physical in their affections in public, neither cared. Genji was their biggest fan—insisting that his best friend and brother were perfect for one another, and often dragging both of them along with him and Zenyatta on dates.

Perfect was an understatement as far as McCree was concerned. The cowboy finally had found a partner who was sharp as a tack—Hanzo spent their quiet evenings watching documentaries on this, that, and the other on TV, or reading long novels. His humor was dry and always carried a sarcastic edge to it that Jesse could appreciate. But not only was his boyfriend incredibly smart, but he could keep up (and sometimes surpass) Jesse in the gym. They could run beside each other on the treadmill for an hour at a time if they wanted to, and both now had a reliable partner to spot weights with. Hanzo was smart, strong, and talented, and Jesse loved spending their off time together. Jesse didn’t have to worry about concealing his past in Deadlock—if anything, Hanzo was the perfect person to share it with considering Hanzo had his own gang dealings growing up. It was a little shocking how similar their stories were, giving the ocean that separated their homes.

The only downside to their relationship that Jesse whined about, was the fact that they hadn’t been deployed on a mission together since Hanamura. Luckily all their missions had been easy as pie—often just to escort a payload from one side of a city to another—but it always made Jesse’s anxiety spike seeing his lover get into that transport with his bow and leaving Jesse behind. But the reunions were always sweet. The one left behind would wait on the tarmac for the other, and the one returning would always find themselves in a warm embrace and showered with kisses that had the rest of the team either smiling or making gagging sounds. Even a year after their mission in Hanamura, the two still acted like this every time they were reunited.

While the time away was often unbearable for both, their time together was golden. Time at the gym, in the shooting range, down at the beach, doing chores, and the occasional bar date in town, all of it was smile filled. Even spending time just lounging in their room filled Jesse with a calm joy he had lacked in Deadlock and Blackwatch. Their room was a large upgrade for both of them, having now twice the space, a large closet for all their clothes and odds n’ ends, an attached bathroom with a shower both could squeeze into, and a large bed to tumble on. Hanzo admittedly had kept a rather Spartan room when he lived alone, so most knickknacks and furniture had been McCree’s. All the books on the bookshelf however were proudly owned by the archer, who loved the smell of ink—a love that he lamented in a way due to written books being rather rare in their day of age.

It was a quiet weekend morning in September. Morning light was streaming in through their open windows, coming right in with the salty sea breeze. The temperatures at night were cool, and during the day it wasn’t getting unbearably hot anymore. The perfect prologue to what was sure to be a beautiful autumn to be sure. Both Hanzo and Jesse were home that weekend, and had _definitely_ enjoyed their Saturday night together.  Despite the fact that it was approaching noon time, both were still laying under the sheets, completely naked, Jesse talking to him about the mission he had been on that had ended on Friday, and Hanzo scrolling through the web on a holopad.

                “We should get a dog,” Hanzo said abruptly.

Jesse paused his story of the dumb ass new guy that had activated a tripwire. “A what now?”

Hanzo continued scrolling—through an adoption website, Jesse now noted. “A dog. A canine. A pup. We should get one.”

The cowboy made a cross face. “Now Han…that’s a big responsibility…”

                “Jesse, we are both almost forty,” Hanzo huffed, still scrolling, eyes glued to the fuzzy faces on the screen. “I think we both—hm… _I_ know what responsibility is.”

                “Hey! I’m responsible too—“

                “Good,” Hanzo said with a sharp look to his eye that said ‘got you’. “Then there is no excuse!”

Jesse gave a half chuckle, half sigh. Sometimes Hanzo was too quick for him. “Han, baby, I know that, but think about it. We’re hardly ever home…that ain’t fair to a pup. Who’s gonna train it? Who’s gonna feed it when we’re away?” He frowned. It wasn’t as if he was opposed to dogs—in fact he loved them! But…

That made Hanzo’s brow furrow and a frown tug at the older man’s mouth. “Hm…” His tone indicated he knew his boyfriend was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The effect was sobering for the archer, and it made Jesse’s heartache a little watching his expression droop. “I have never owned a pet,” Hanzo admitted. “The clan did not permit such a thing, and being on the run for a decade…”

Jesse stroked his metal hand through Hanzo’s loose hair. “Aw, don’t be sad Hanners…Maybe when we retire—“

Hanzo snorted. “Do not be foolish. You know you will be Reinhardt’s age and still trying to go into battle. As for me, I will be lucky to live through another Taco Tuesday with you,” he said, in a venom-less tone. Jesse _did_ love going overboard with the peppers and hot sauce when he cooked…especially anything even remotely southern style. ‘Just like that jack ass Reyes’ Morrison often growled as he out fan his mouth. He gave a long sigh, fingers finally halting their scrolling and going and clicking out of the website. “You are right I suppose. Perhaps in another life.”

                “Babe don’t be like that—“

The archer waved him off as if to say ‘do not worry about it’. “It was merely an idea,” he murmured. Hanzo got out of the bed and padded over to the closet. “What was it last night you said you wished to do this morning? Was it running?”

The cowboy heard his lover’s words, but his mind was still a mile behind trying to untangle his thoughts. Hanzo wanted _them_ to get a dog. Joint ownership. _Joint._ Together. Him and Hanzo. It was one thing living together, because each man had brought their own belongings into the relationship. But this would be introducing something new that belonged to both of them…and a living thing! Wouldn’t that be akin to their own child? The thought made Jesse blush as he climbed out of bed.

A clicking sound pulled Jesse’s attention. Hanzo was snapping at him, a soft scowl on his face. “Are you listening to me cowboy?”

                “Ah, yeah, sorry. Can y’ say that one more time sugar?”

Hanzo sighed. He had shrugged on boxers and socks by then. “I was asking…what did you want to do this morning before lunch? The gym? The range? We ran out of liquor last night…perhaps a trip into town?”

                “Uh,” the answer stuck in Jesse’s throat. “Let’s go into town.”

While Hanzo went about rooting through his closet in search of clothes (they had to do laundry, desperately, and soon), McCree went over to his own half of the closet. Boxers, socks, jeans, wine red t-shirt, hat, done. But…

His eyes went to a wooden box sitting behind where his shirts hung. It was something that he stored old keepsakes in, smalls trinkets Hanzo had given him, old photos he had from his youth, letters from relatives before he dropped out of existence for them. He hadn’t opened it in months, and the last time he had it was to put something inside so Hanzo wouldn’t see. But that morning, hearing Hanzo talking (still) about dogs and how much he had researched various breeds over the years, and feeling the warmth of the air sailing through _their_ apartment…McCree reached back and opened up the small wooden box. It was only about the size of a shoebox, but it suited his purpose.

                “I am rather fond of how akitas look,” Hanzo continued, oblivious to what McCree was doing. “They are large but not obscenely so. Double coated but not shaggy. Intelligent but not too smart for their own good—or so I hear.” He had pulled on a pair of black jeans and a white tshirt to go under the leather jacket he had in mind. Hanzo closed his half of the closet and stepped back to go searching for the shoes he knew he kicked of _somewhere_ the night before…when he almost tripped over something. “What the—“

He turned only to find Jesse on one knee behind him, hands behind his back.

Hanzo’s brow quirked up. “Jesse? What are you doing? If you are looking to be knighted, I have no means to—“

His jest was met with Jesse pulling a small black box out from behind his back. It was small, only the size of his palm with a lid that flipped up. Hanzo’s brain short circuited.

                “Jes—“

A flesh finger pulled back the top of the box, revealing a velvety interior of dark blue. Nestled in a ridge in the fabric sat a thick silver colored band, ornamented with two diamonds on either side of a sapphire, nestled within the metal. The gems shimmered in the morning light, almost as bright as the nervous smile McCree was casting up at his boyfriend.

                “Darlin’…” McCree began before pausing, taking a deep breath and continuing. “I…I love y’. So damn much. I know it’s not a holiday, or yer birthday…it’s just a regular ol’ day in September, but…I can’t think of any other time I would rather ask y’.” If Hanzo noticed the box shaking in Jesse’s hands, or the tremble in his voice, he chose not to point it out. “Yer the love of my life, Shimada Hanzo. The best damn partner I coulda ask fer, someone who has made me work harder t’ better myself, and someone who always keeps me happy an’ smilin’.” Jesse presented the box a little higher. “Yer my best friend, the only one I could even fathom spendin’ the rest of my life with. Hanzo, will y’ do me the honor of marryin’ me?”

Hanzo stared down at him. His eyes were about the size of saucers, but other than that his voice was even when he spoke, and there was not a tear to be seen. His lack of immediate reaction sent a spike of worry through Jesse. Had he made a mistake? Was Hanzo not ready for commitment? Did he not _want_ commitment? Perhaps had had read him wrong…

                “Is this because I asked for a dog?” Hanzo asked suddenly, jarring Jesse from his worried thoughts.

                “N-No? I’ve…been meaning t’ do this for months…I just…never felt the time was right. ‘Till now.”

There was a sudden smile, and in one fluid movement, Jesse was on his back with Hanzo above him lying on his chest. The archer’s lips were pressing against his in quick, rapid fire kisses as his arms were half hauling Jesse up into a hug. When Hanzo broke away he buried his pink burning face into Jesse’s neck. “Yes Jesse. A thousand times, yes.”

Jesse perked up, nudging Hanzo’s face back so he could look at him proper. “Y’ mean it? You’ll marry me?”

Hanzo was positively radiating, his smile the happiest Jesse had ever seen on the man. And god damn, he _giggled_ when he said, “Yes Jesse, I’ll marry you.”

The ring was slipped reverently out of the box. Jesse reached down with his metal hand and brought up Hanzo’s left hand so he could slip the ring on. He admired how the sapphire, diamonds, and shiny metal looked before squeezing their hands together. “Yer mine now y’ know,” Jesse chuckled.                

                “I know.”

Jesse’s hands settled on either side of Hanzo’s face, pulling him in for more languid kisses. “I’ll fight anyone who even looks a y’ funny.” 

                “You do that already Jesse, you jealous fool.”

                “Well I’ll do it more. An’, no matter what happens…” He leaned down, foreheads touching tenderly as they sat upon the carpeted floor. “I’ll always love y’. I promise. ‘Till the day I die. No matter what.”

Hanzo chuckled and kissed back happily. “Practicing your vows already?”

                “Naw, just tellin’ y’ what’s up,” he joked.

They spent what seemed like hours, Hanzo sitting in Jesse’s lap, swapping kisses and laughs, and admiring the ring. It was only when both their stomachs growled that they decided to join in for lunch in the commons. Nestled amongst friends the newly engaged couple ate, neither drawing attention to their new status.

But of course, it was Genji of all people, who noticed the new accessory to his brother’s hand. The fork he had been lifting to his un-visored mouth clattered noisily to his plate, setting bits of food everywhere, much to his friends’ horror.

                “WHAT IS THAT!?” he spluttered. Disregarding the food between them, Genji was leaning his metal body across the table to take his brother’s hand. Genji’s face split into a huge goofy smile as he began racing around the table for an even closer look.

Hanzo could only smile helplessly at Jesse. Their quiet lunch might have been ruined by the now excited roars of “YASSSS”, “Finally!”, “Thank god!”, and others erupting from their friends, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
